The Way it Has to Be
by Sarah9
Summary: Just a little SydVaughn fluff story. Serves as a cure for my own Alias withdrawl. Chapter 26 up finally! Less plot development, more fluff! YAY! Review, please!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Michael Vaughn, Sydney Bristow, and any other related Alias characers and ideas belong to me only in my happy little dreamworld. But my dreamworld is not reality. Sadly. In reality... I'm not married to Michael Vaughn... and Alias isn't real. Which is why I choose my dreamworld.  
  
Summary: Just a little fluffy piece with some Syd/Vaughn romance going on a bit later. Won't be a long story.  
  
A/N: Hello everyone. It's been awhile since I put anything up here. This is a new fic, and it obviously takes place pre-Phase One... back to the good old Unrequited Sexual Tension (although I can't say that I mind the Requited Sexual Tension much at all--haha). Anyways. Please review... I love to know what you all think!   
  
The Way it Has to Be  
  
Chapter 1  
  
What was I supposed to do? Pretend he didn't exist? Smile politely every time he walked by, try to draw my eyes away from his impossibly wrinkle-free suit and ignore the flutter in my chest when he flashed me a lopsided grin?  
  
Impossible.  
  
It would be completely impossible to ignore him, to convince myself that he didn't matter, to trick my mind into believing that I didn't care about him as more than a colleague.   
  
More than a handler.   
  
More than a friend.  
  
Just impossible.  
  
I sighed heavily, tapping my fingers restlessly against my keyboard. These thoughts had been plaguing me relentlessly. Thoughts that I shouldn't—couldn't be having about Michael Vaughn.  
  
I glanced away from my computer screen, discreetly sending a sidelong glace towards Vaughn's desk, and finding myself simultaneously disappointed and relieved when I saw that it was deserted.  
  
I sighed again, resting my chin on the palm of my hand. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to think about him for a precious moment—about his face, his hands, his kindness, his heart…  
  
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped, my mind jerking unhappily back to reality.   
  
"Hey… you ok, Syd?" It was him.  
  
I couldn't help the involuntary flutter in my chest as my eyes fell on him. And I couldn't prevent the blush of embarrassment that soon followed. But, like the well-trained intelligence officer I was, I shook it off, returning my mind to business.  
  
"Fine," I replied, perhaps a little too quickly. I took a breath, calming down my overactive heart. "Just thinking."   
  
Vaughn nodded, catching on quickly that I didn't want to go into it any further. God knows I had plenty to think about.  
  
My mother.  
  
My father.  
  
Sloane.  
  
And yet, at my most vulnerable—at my most desperate, all I could think about was Vaughn.   
  
I shook the thought away.  
  
"What's up?" I asked, reconstructing that wall around myself that seemed to crumble every time I talked to him. "How was the meeting with Devlin?"  
  
Vaughn chuckled. "Boring as Hell." He cracked another smile, glancing down at his feet before returning his eyes to mine.  
  
I returned his smile, thinking of what could have been between us, if not for SD-6. Or the CIA. Or the fact that my mother killed his father.  
  
But I had forced myself to realize months ago that, even if I wanted it to, nothing could ever happen between us. Because there would always be something in the way. Something more important.  
  
Well…not more important.  
  
More immediate, maybe.  
  
More dangerous.  
  
But nothing, I realized, could be more important to me than Michael Vaughn.  
  
"Syd," I heard him say, the concern returning to his voice. "Are you sure that everything's ok?" I chastised myself, realizing I had again drifted away from the conversation.  
  
I glanced up at him, plastering a reassuring smile on my face.  
  
"Yeah," I replied, knowing that my answer was a lie. "Everything's fine."  
  
"Ok," he said, his eyes still concerned. "Well," he continued, after a moment's pause. "I'd better get back to work."  
  
I chuckled, gesturing to my own pile of endless paperwork. "Me too."  
  
I watched him walk back to his desk, repeating the phrase that had become my mantra.  
  
It's how it has to be.  
  
It's how it has to be.  
  
It's how it has to be. 


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter 2. I can't guarantee that I'll be updating this fast all the time. Today just happens to be CRAZY slow at work, and this is all I can think of to keep myself entertained. If you're bored as well, check out my other Fan Fics, Two Weeks, and Back to Reality. (Yes... that was a shameless attempt at getting more reviews. Sorry.) And please read and review this story as well! Have a GREAT day!  
  
Chapter 2  
  
I returned home from work exhausted that evening, dumping my briefcase by the door and collapsing on the sofa in the living room.  
  
I hated to admit it, but I was slightly relieved that Francie was out of town. I didn't feel like being grilled about why the bank worked me so hard, and why I didn't quit. Every time she commented on it, I felt like jumping up and screaming that it wasn't a bank—not even close—and that if there were any possible way to quit, I would in a heartbeat.  
  
I groaned, burrowing farther back into the cushions of the couch, thinking half-heartedly about getting up and fixing something for dinner. I was starving, but I lacked any desire to actually move, let alone think of something to eat.  
  
Without realizing it, my eyes began to droop, and I was soon fast asleep.  
  
In what seemed like only a short period of time, I was jolted awake by loud knocking on my front door. I lay motionless for a moment, allowing the sleepiness to dissipate slightly before getting up and walking to the door. My heart stopped as I glanced through the peephole in the door.  
  
Vaughn. I hesitated. What was he doing here? He knew we couldn't be seen together like this.   
  
I opened the door quickly, grabbed his arm, and dragged him roughly into the house.  
  
"Vaughn—what the Hell—" I snapped, after the door had safely been shut and locked. I turned to face him, knowing full well that I wasn't really angry so much as scared. There was a reason we were required to meet in gas stations and car washes and abandoned warehouses—why we weren't allowed to look at each other in public. This was dangerous. For both of us.  
  
Vaughn looked at me for a moment before glancing away, looking suddenly ashamed.  
  
"I'm sorry…" he said after a moment. "I shouldn't be here."  
  
"No." I stated flatly. "You shouldn't." I felt guilty the second I said it. He looked up at me, and my heart constricted at the pain that flashed through his eyes at my harsh words.  
  
He nodded. "This was a bad idea," he muttered, walking back towards the door.  
  
"Wait…Vaughn." I grabbed his arm lightly. "I'm sorry. I just don't want anything to happen to y—" I caught myself before finishing the word. "—to us." I finished lamely. "But since you're already here," I paused, glancing at him. "You might as well stay."  
  
He still refused to meet my eyes. Sighing, I squeezed his arm before giving him a slight tug into my living room. He looked up finally, offering me a tense smile before lowering himself onto my couch.  
  
"What's in the bag?" I asked, noticing for the first time the two plastic bags he'd been carrying.   
  
"Dinner. I thought maybe you'd be hungry." He held up a bag. "Hope you like Chinese."  
  
I grinned. "Vaughn, you are an angel." He beamed, obviously pleased at the comment, and I felt the tension melt away. "Hold on and I'll get some plates."   
  
He rose quickly at my words, following me to the kitchen. "Anything I can do to help?" He questioned. I smiled, watching him as he took in his surroundings.   
  
"Yeah," I said. "Grab some silverware from the drawer. Napkins are in there too." I gestured to the drawer, before reaching up to retrieve some plates from one of the cupboards. He felt him move next to me, and realized suddenly how natural all this felt. How normal. Like we were a family. I grinned at the thought as I carried the plates to the counter.  
  
"What?" Vaughn asked. I looked at him, surprised to see that he had been watching me. I blushed, but couldn't stop grinning.   
  
"Nothing." I said unconvincingly.   
  
"C'mon, Syd. What's funny?" Vaughn asked, holding back a grin himself.  
  
"Nothing!" I said, laughing.  
  
"Fine," he grumbled.  
  
"Ok…" I said finally. "You talked me into it." He smiled triumphantly. "I was just thinking," I continued. "Wouldn't it be weird if this was how we spent all our evenings? Cooking, and talking, and—being normal?"  
  
Vaughn looked at me for a moment. "Not that weird," he said. "I think it would be nice." He looked away shyly. I thought for a moment, trying to decide what he meant by the comment.  
  
"Yeah, it would," I replied finally. "Very nice." He glanced up at me, a hint of a smile playing on the corner of his lips.  
  
We stood in silence for several seconds, before my stomach broke it with a loud, embarrassing rumble. I blushed, looking away again. Vaughn chuckled.   
  
"Guess we'd better eat, huh?" He said, smiling.  
  
"Guess so," I replied, handing him a plate. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. YAY! Feel free to let me know if this story is totally lame. I have no idea where I'm going plot-wise... just so you're prepared for a bunch of fluffiness, with no plot at all. Anyways. As always, read and review. This is probably the last chapter for today. Also, you can email me at adele1013@email.com if you have longer comments (which would be lovely).  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"So," I said, after we had finished our meals in comfortable silence. "Why did you come here, Vaughn?"  
  
He paused, finished chewing a fortune cookie, then looked up at me. "I was worried about you. You seemed preoccupied at work. I thought something was wrong."  
  
"Vaughn," I said, pausing to take a sip of water. "I'm always preoccupied. Always."   
  
He chuckled. "It just seemed different today. Different than when you're worried about work, or when you're thinking about your mom. I don't know how to explain it really." He shook his head, embarrassed. "It was stupid."  
  
"Well," I said, trying not to smile. "The fact that you came to my house was stupid. The fact that you cared enough to come to my house is actually—sweet."  
  
He blushed, and I laughed.  
  
"So," I continued, changing the subject, since I had obviously embarrassed him. "What are your plans for the rest of the evening?"  
  
He shook his head. "Nothing. There's a hockey game on at eight. Other than that, nothing."  
  
"Vaughn. It's Friday night. You don't have any plans?"  
  
"Hey," he said defensively. "It's been a long week. The meeting I had with Devlin today was enough to bring any normal man to his knees."  
  
"True," I said, grinning.   
  
"Does this mean that you do have plans tonight?" Vaughn asked, grinning. I paused.  
  
"Well… not exactly…" I muttered.  
  
"See?" Vaughn said, triumphantly. "You're just as pathetic as I am."   
  
I scowled at him. We sat for several moments, fingering the leftover fortune cookies on our plates.  
  
"You know," I said. "It's no fun watching a hockey game by yourself."  
  
He nodded. "That's true."  
  
"And I do have an extra spot on my couch," I continued, smiling.  
  
"Another good point." Vaughn replied, his face serious. "What are you suggesting?"  
  
"Well, you're already here…" I paused. "You could stay awhile longer, and watch the game here if you want. I mean—to make it worth your trip over here." I felt the blush creeping up my neck and face, and cursed myself for being so easily embarrassed.   
  
"That's very efficient of you, Agent Bristow," Vaughn replied, chuckling. "And I think I'll take you up on that, if you don't mind. Better than sitting at home on the couch with a chubby bulldog."  
  
I didn't know whether to be offended or touched by his last comment.  
  
"How much better?" I asked, looking at him skeptically.  
  
"Way, way better," he said.   
  
"Good answer." I grabbed a pillow, chucking it at him, and grabbed one for myself. "What channel?" 


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everyone. Here's chapter 4. I hope that fanfic.net is working better these days. I couldn't get in for the whole weekend! AAH! Fanfic withdrawl. Please review! Thanks!  
  
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Chapter 4  
  
Vaughn fell asleep halfway through the game, and I realized that he hadn't been lying when he said he was exhausted.   
  
After awhile, I turned down the volume on the game. I had stopped paying attention after I noticed he had fallen asleep beside me. I watched him as he slept, his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes fluttering every once and awhile at some unknown dream.  
  
I was in love with him.  
  
I remembered something my mother had once told me, a long time ago, before she had left. She told me that if I loved someone, they would be beautiful to me no matter what—whether they were eating, or sick, or fast asleep—they would always be beautiful.  
  
And, at that moment, with his mouth half open and his head tilted awkwardly to the side, Vaughn was gorgeous. Amazing.   
  
I watched him for a few moments longer, before rising from the couch to get a blanket from my bedroom. I returned, sitting down next to him again, trying to ignore the heat that radiated from his body. I gently placed the blanket over him. He mumbled something in his sleep, shifting slightly before falling silent again.  
  
Hesitantly, I reached out to his face, brushing my fingers softly along the stubble of his cheek and chin, reveling in the opportunity to touch him, if only for a moment.  
  
He shifted again, and I jerked my hand away, feeling suddenly guilty for my actions. And for my feelings.  
  
It wasn't fair to him. I couldn't love him and not tell him. It wasn't honest. And the one thing that we did have was honesty.  
  
And, I realized, it wasn't fair to me. I couldn't get my hopes up in moments like these. I couldn't allow myself to start hoping for—to start believing in—something that could never happen.   
  
I could love him, but it would only get him hurt. Or get him killed. And if he died, my life would end.  
  
I backed away from him, rising from the couch cautiously, afraid to wake him. With one last look at his sleeping form, I retreated to my bedroom.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I woke up the next morning to the sun beaming in through my bedroom window. I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the brightness, and my mind slowly waking up. It took me awhile to remember the events of the night before, but when I did remember, I was flooded with excitement.  
  
He was here. He had spent the night on my couch.  
  
I rolled out of bed, taking a deep breath, and reminded myself of everything I had realized last night. I couldn't love him. We could be friends. Partners. But never anything more. It was too dangerous for both of us.  
  
This was the way things had to be.  
  
And yet, I realized as the excitement in the pit of my stomach refused to go away, love wasn't something I could control. I couldn't tell myself not to love Michael Vaughn. Because it was too late. I already did.   
  
And, I admitted to myself, there was no way I could stop loving him. I wanted to wake up with him in the same house. The same room. The same bed. I wanted to eat breakfast with him, and take walks with him. Hug him. Kiss him. I wanted to be able to love him. And most of all, I wanted to tell him how I felt.  
  
But I knew that I couldn't.  
  
I quickly smoothed my hair back, threw a robe on over my pajamas, and headed out to the living room to wake him up.  
  
My eyes scanned the room, and fell on the couch.  
  
Empty.  
  
He was gone.  
  
My heart sank. My eyes rested on a note, scribbled in his messy handwriting on the back of an old magazine. I picked it up, feeling a lump rise up in my throat as I read the note.  
  
'Syd- Thanks for letting me watch the game. Sorry I fell asleep on you.  
  
See you Monday.  
  
-Vaughn'  
  
I tossed the magazine back on the couch, and collapsed next to it, wishing that he were still here. Wishing that he was always here. And wishing that my life was different.  
  
But this was the way it had to be.  
  
And there was nothing left to do but cry.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hope you guys liked it... kind of sad. But don't worry. It will get happy soon :) Review, review, review!!! 


	5. Chapter 5

Hey you all. Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming. They make my day! Here is chapter five. Still kind of sad... but I promise... the more sad it is, the happier it will be later on. So don't worry, and tough it out. Next chapter will be better :) Please read and review. My email is adele1013@email.com. Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 5  
  
I arrived at work early the next day, still feeling depressed. I had spent the entire weekend hoping that Vaughn would call, asking me to come to the warehouse, or to come in to CIA headquarters.   
  
Something.  
  
Anything.  
  
But he hadn't called. Not a word from Joey's Pizza for the entire weekend.  
  
I needed some kind of reassurance that he didn't feel that Friday night had been a complete mistake. Yes, it had been a mistake for him to come in the first place. But did he think it had been a mistake to stay? His short note had left me feeling like he regretted coming. That he had appreciated the hospitality, but that it had meant nothing more than that to him.  
  
It had meant more to me. Much more than I had realized until Saturday morning, when I was left with an empty couch and a vague note.  
  
I had spent the day locked up in my room, crying, and feeling sorry for myself. At first, I had been angry with Vaughn for leaving the note, for not waking me to say goodbye in person. Then, I had realized that it wasn't his fault. He didn't know how I felt about him. How could he know that it would hurt me so much to get the note? He hadn't been mean, or cold, or indifferent. He had just been Agent Vaughn. Who accidentally fell asleep on his asset's couch.  
  
I had wanted to call him, and tell him everything that I felt for him, but knew that I couldn't.  
  
Francie had come home Saturday night, and had wondered what was wrong. I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to know every detail of what had happened Friday. I wanted to tell her exactly what I felt for Vaughn.  
  
I wanted her to reassure me—to tell me that it would be impossible for him not to feel the same way.  
  
But I couldn't tell her. The only person I could be honest with was Vaughn. But not with this.   
  
Instead, I had to wipe my puffy red eyes, force a smile, and tell Francie that everything was ok—that it had just been a horrible day at the bank—before locking myself in my room again.  
  
I had managed to pull myself out of it today. I'd given myself a pep talk before work, and I had stopped feeling sorry for myself. What would it accomplish? My life would not change just because I wished it would.   
  
The only thing that could change my life was work. So I threw myself into it again, full-force.  
  
And yet, as I sat busily typing at my desk at the CIA, my heart still felt hollow, and I knew that only one thing could change that.  
  
Michael Vaughn.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Syd?" My head jerked away from my computer screen when I heard Vaughn's voice.  
  
"Hey," I replied, forcing a half-hearted smile. I frowned, though, when Vaughn didn't return my smile as usual. He seemed preoccupied. "How was the rest of your weekend?" I asked casually, trying to keep the concern out of my voice.  
  
"Awful," he replied, almost to himself. "Listen, Syd." He said quickly. "We need to talk." My heart sank at his words, at the tenseness of his features. "I'm setting up a meet at the warehouse. I need to brief you on your next mission anyways."  
  
I nodded, not exactly sure what to say. Something was wrong, and from the concern in his eyes, I could tell that it wasn't something I would like.  
  
He continued after a brief moment's pause. "Be there at seven tonight." He offered a brief, tight smile, which did nothing to relieve my uneasiness, before heading back to his desk across the room.  
  
I sighed. He had probably realized how I felt about him. He didn't feel the same way. That had to be what we needed to talk about. Nothing else could make him that tense. That serious.   
  
God.   
  
It would ruin our friendship. Things like this always did. But I could lie. Tell him that he was wrong. We would laugh it off, and stay as close as we always have been. My heart would ache every time we were together. But our friendship—our partnership—would be safe.  
  
I breathed deeply, my mind telling me that it was for the best. That it was the way things had to be.  
  
But my heart was telling me something much different.  
  
'* * * * *  
  
So there you go. Sad, but it's ok. It'll get better. Let me know if you think it's any good, or if you think it's dragging a bit. I just write what happens to fly off my pen. It's you're job to let me know if it's good or... not so good :) 


	6. chapter 6

Hey, hey, hey... I'm having a very productive day at work today writing fan fiction. Heehee. I like this chapter. It's happy. And happy is good :) Please let me know what you think--read and review... read and review... keep repeating those words to yourself! :)  
  
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Chapter 6  
  
I arrived at the warehouse almost 45 minutes early, hoping to have a few spare minutes to think. I was surprised, though, to find Vaughn's car already in the parking lot.  
  
I took a few moments to brace myself for what I knew was coming. After a lot of thought that day, I had convinced myself that I could do it—that I could be totally professional when I was with Vaughn, that I could keep my feelings bottled up in a totally different part of my brain. I did it every day with issues at work. Why not here as well?  
  
I took a few more deep breaths to calm myself down, before walking confidently into the warehouse.  
  
He was standing in his normal spot, his back propped up against the chain link fence. His eyes were downcast and his brow was furrowed. I walked into the room silently, watching him for several moments and fighting the onslaught of emotions that hit me every time I was in the same room with him. I pushed the emotions back, as I always did.  
  
"Hey…" I said softly. Vaughn jumped at the sound of my voice.  
  
"God. Syd. I didn't hear you come in."  
  
"Sorry," I said, moving slightly closer to him. "I'm early."  
  
He shook his head. "No problem." He glanced away from me, clearing his throat, and worrying the collar of his wrinkled Oxford shirt with one hand. His eyes were sad, or frightened. I couldn't tell exactly which. But I could definitely see that he was on edge—more nervous than I had ever seen him before.  
  
"Listen, Vaughn," I said after several moments of awkward silence. He glanced up at me hesitantly. "I think I know why you asked me here."  
  
"You do?" He asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.  
  
"Yeah. And Vaughn—" He raised his hand, motioning for me to stop talking.  
  
"Before you say anything, Syd," he said. "Let me say what I came here to say. I had a whole speech running through my head all day."  
  
I nodded, frowning, and wondered why he didn't seem more upset. "Ok," I said hesitantly.  
  
He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts.  
  
"Listen," he said finally. "I've known you for a long time now."  
  
"Almost two and a half years," I said automatically.  
  
He nodded before continuing. "Exactly. And to be honest, I thought that I would work with you for a month or two, and then we'd go our separate ways. I never thought we'd have come so far together—that we'd be standing here today."  
  
I remained silent for a moment, waiting for him to continue. He cleared his throat nervously, and I frowned, preparing myself for the news that I had been dreading all day.  
  
"Syd…I don't want to ruin our friendship. It means everything to me. But I can't go to work and see you every day without telling you…"  
  
I looked away, wanting to shout at him to spit it out—to put me out of my misery.  
  
"I love you, Syd…" he said quietly, staring at the floor. I froze, feeling as if my heart had stopped.  
  
"What?" I said, more sharply than I had intended.  
  
"I didn't know how to tell you," he said. "It's not like our lives are normal. We can't go out on dates. We can't even see each other in public. And everything about this is dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt because of something that I feel."  
  
"Wait," I said, my mind slowly catching up with his words. "You love me."  
  
He nodded. "And I understand that you probably don't feel the same way. It's ok. I just wanted you to know. If you feel like you'd be better off with a different handler, I'd understand." He looked away, trying to hide the sadness in his eyes.  
  
I gaped at him, knowing full well that my mouth was hanging open in shock. I needed to say something, but I couldn't. All the sadness that had enveloped me all day had suddenly melted away, leaving me with an unspeakable feeling of elation.  
  
Vaughn looked at me, the disappointment raw in his eyes. He had obviously misinterpreted my silence. His jaw tensed.  
  
"I'll talk with Devlin about having you reassigned to a new handler. I'm sure that Weiss would be willing—" I cut him off, finally finding my voice.  
  
"You love me?" I said again, my voice softer.  
  
"Yes, Sydney," Vaughn said, his voice rising harshly. "I'm sorry. I love you. What else can I say?" He paused, sighing. "Listen. I'm sorry I told you. It would have been better to keep it to myself."  
  
"No!" I said quickly. "I mean, I'm glad you told me." I hesitated, smiling at my stupidity. "I thought you asked me here to tell me that you didn't love me. I thought that—well—you had left that note Saturday morning, and it was just so—I don't know. I thought that Friday night hadn't meant anything to you.  
  
He looked at me, confused. "Of course it meant something. You mean something to me, Syd. You mean everything to me. I wouldn't have come to your house that night if you didn't. But I couldn't just come out and say that I love you in a note. Besides," he said. "It's ok. I understand that we're friends, and that's how you want us to stay." He glanced away.  
  
"Vaughn." I said, waiting until he looked back up at me. "I never said I wanted to stay friends." He frowned, and I continued before his mind started jumping to more conclusions. "I love you, too, Vaughn. I have for awhile, but I didn't want to say anything. For the same reasons as you. For our friendship. And for our safety. And because I thought you didn't feel the same way."  
  
This time it was Vaughn who was taken off guard. He stood for a moment in shocked silence, before breaking out in a huge smile.  
  
I returned his smile, relief washing over me in a wave. I watched him as he took a hesitant step towards me.  
  
"So what should we do?" He asked, the smile still plastered on his face, but his eyes serious. "How should we handle this?"  
  
I shook my head. "I don't know."  
  
"It's going to be complicated," Vaughn said, taking another step towards me.  
  
"And dangerous," I responded.  
  
"I want to be a part of your life, Syd." I smiled, realizing that he was only about six inches away from me.  
  
"I want that, too," I replied. He reached out, grabbing my hand, and kissed my knuckles lightly. I shivered at the touch, having a hard time believing that any of this was happening. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of his fingers on my fingers, and before I knew it, I felt his lips press softly against mine. Our kiss was gentle. Slow. Nothing like I had imagined it would be. And yet so much better. So much more.  
  
We pulled away silently, my eyes still closed as he pulled me to him, his embrace conveying the depths of his emotions in a way that words never could.  
  
"I love you, Syd," he whispered, his words soft and muffled by my hair.  
  
"I love you too, Vaughn," I said, pulling away and smiling at him, enjoying the way the phrase rolled off of my tongue.  
  
I sighed. Both of us knew that it was time to go. I had a mission to prepare for, and I was leaving early in the morning. We couldn't linger at the warehouse any longer than necessary.   
  
Vaughn nodded, not needing to ask what I was thinking about.   
  
"Please be careful in Australia, Syd."   
  
I smiled at him. "I'm always careful."  
  
"I know," he replied. "Be extra careful."  
  
"I will." He smiled, satisfied. "See you in five days," I said, leaning in one more time to place a soft kiss on his lips, before pulling away.  
  
"Vaughn nodded, and without another word, I turned, walking away from him. Before leaving, though, I turned and smiled, my heart fluttering one last time as he returned my smile with a brilliant one of his own.  
  
I waved, then disappeared through the doorway.  
  
* * * * *  
  
So there you go. Hope you all liked it. Reviews! Please! 


	7. Chapter 7

Hey everyone. Here's chapter 7. Short, but sweet. And just a warning, there probably won't be an update for a few days. My best friend is getting married, and there are all kinds of festivities to attend to! Please read and review, and I'll write again as soon as I get a chance!!!  
  
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Chapter 7  
  
I arrived home exhausted. It had been five days of Hell. First, a twenty hour flight to Australia. Then, a lot of fighting and getting shot at, and a short stay at a run-down safe house, just in case. Then, another twenty hour flight back to LA, this time with about eighteen sore muscles, a four inch gash along the side of my forearm, and a splitting headache.   
  
As missions go, it hadn't been too bad, really. Limited injuries, very little emotional trauma, all things considered, and both SD-6 and CIA missions completed without a hitch.  
  
I was exhausted, and as I stumbled through the front door of my house, I could barely keep my eyes open. For a moment, I wondered how I had managed to deal with the constant jet lag. Normal people could not fly from LA to Australia one day, Paris to Kandahar the next. It just wasn't humanly possible. As I collapsed on the couch, I realized that I hadn't really dealt with the jet lag. I would just keep getting more and more exhausted, until one day I just stopped functioning.  
  
Which didn't sound too bad at the moment. I sighed. At least I got to keep the frequent flyer miles. I chuckled at the thought, wondering when, in between the traveling I did for work, I would find the time or the desire to travel for pleasure.  
  
I groaned, stretching, and slowly realizing that I hadn't eaten yet. I slowly hauled myself off of the couch, making my way to the kitchen.  
  
I paused at the counter, my eyes falling on a small bouquet of eleven roses. Francie's latest date, no doubt. Another winner…who obviously wasn't quite smart enough to count to twelve. I smiled, returning my attention to the fridge.  
  
Pulling out a can of pop and some leftover Chinese, I sat down at the counter, admiring the roses. It was then that I noticed a note from Francie, lying next to the vase. I picked it up curiously.  
  
'Welcome back, Sweetie. These came for you the other day. I'll be back late tonight. And you're going to tell me everything about this secret admirer of yours. –Fran'  
  
I smiled, realizing then who the flowers were from. Reaching up, I grabbed the card buried among the leaves of the roses.  
  
'Hope you made it back safe. I missed you. It's not a full dozen, so you'll have to collect on number twelve in person. Wish I could be there. –V'  
  
I grinned, feeling like a teenager who had just been asked to the prom. Carrying the card with me as I moved back into my living room, I found myself getting excited about going to the work—excited for the first time in months. Not because I liked my job. But because I loved Michael Vaughn. And as much as I wished he were here tonight, to massage my sore back, or to kiss the gash on my arm and make the sting go away, or to hug me and tell me he'd always be there, I understood that it wasn't possible now.  
  
But someday.  
  
Someday we would have all of those things.  
  
And until then, I would see him at work and pretend that nothing was going on, except in those stolen moments, when we could really be ourselves.  
  
When I could say that I loved him.  
  
I sighed happily, curling up on the couch, and only half-heartedly fighting off the exhaustion that began to overtake me. In moments, I was fast asleep, Vaughn's note still clasped in my hand. 


	8. Chapter 8

Hey everyone- here's chapter 8. Sorry if this is just terribly mushy. I'm in quite the happy, romantic mood since my friend's wedding on Saturday. HUM. I don't know where to go from here, but I'm sure I'll figure something out. Of course, I'm always open to suggestions, so read and review, or email me at adele1013@email.com! Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 8  
  
I didn't make it in to CIA headquarters until almost five the next day. Sloane had kept me busy with post-mission debriefs the entire day, and I felt more exhausted now than I had while actually on the mission.  
  
There was actually no reason for me to be at the CIA. The information I had gathered for the CIA countermission had been taken care of on a dead drop this morning. The truth was, I needed to see him. I wanted to tell him thank you—for the flowers, and for being the one person who could understand how I felt when I returned from a mission.  
  
Five days was way too long to be separated from Michael Vaughn.  
  
I was addicted.  
  
As I entered the main offices of the CIA, I glanced around, hoping to see Vaughn at his desk, but he wasn't there.  
  
I did see Weiss, typing busily on his computer, and decided to head over and say hi.  
  
"Weiss—" I said, tapping him on the shoulder.  
  
"Oh. Hey Syd," he said, turning in his chair to face me. "What're you doing here? Didn't you just get back?"  
  
I nodded. "Last night."   
  
"So why aren't you home sleeping?"  
  
I shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "Just wanted to come in and make sure everything was going ok."  
  
"So you're a workaholic…tell me something I don't know."  
  
I smiled. "Yep. You know me. Can't stay away." I laughed nervously, and Weiss's eyes suddenly became suspicious.  
  
"Wait." He said. "There's something else." He looked at me, trying to read my expression. I blushed.  
  
Suddenly, Weiss broke into a grin. "Oh…I know what it is," he said, discreetly glancing in the direction of Vaughn's empty desk. He turned back, nodding. "Yep. Just as I thought. You just couldn't wait another second to see—"  
  
"Weiss!" I hissed, cutting him off. "Shut up!"  
  
"Come on," he said, pretending to be offended. "You can tell me," he said. "It's not like I don't already know," he muttered.  
  
"What?" I asked, shocked.  
  
"Yeah," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "Vaughn told me."  
  
"He told you?" I said, my voice coming out louder than expected. "I'm gonna kill him…" I muttered beneath my breath.  
  
"No you're not," Weiss said. "You love him."  
  
"Weiss—" I snapped, glaring at him. "Shut up."  
  
"Syd, seriously. Even if he hadn't told me, I already knew. You guys are so obvious. Vaughn isn't the best at hiding his feelings about anything—especially you. And you aren't exactly the best at it either, for someone who's supposed to be such a world class intelligence agent—"  
  
Weiss's voice trailed off as I continued to glare at him. "Where is he?" I asked finally, realizing that there was no point in denying what Weiss obviously already knew.  
  
"In a meeting with Kendall," Weiss replied. "Should be done soon."  
  
I nodded, looking at him seriously. "Please keep this to yourself?" I asked. Weiss's face turned serious as well.  
  
"Syd, you mean the world to him. I realized that about a week after he met you. I'd never do anything to endanger that."  
  
I smiled, relieved. "Thanks."  
  
"Speaking of Loverboy," Weiss muttered, his grin returning. He nodded towards the conference room. I shot him a final glare before glancing in the direction that he had indicated. I smiled, seeing Vaughn, his back to me, finishing a conversation with Kendall.  
  
Without another word, I headed towards Vaughn, ignoring Weiss's disgusted muttering behind me.   
  
"Agent Bristow," Kendall said when he saw me approaching. I smiled as Vaughn turned around, his eyebrows rising slightly when he saw that it was me. He had obviously been expecting my father, and I couldn't help the swell of pleasure I felt as his eyes lit up when he realized that it was me. Our eyes connected for a moment, before I returned my attention to Kendall.  
  
"Good work in Australia, Bristow," Kendall said, smiling tightly. "I'm surprised to see you here. The jet lag must be terrible." I laughed to myself. Like he would know. He spent all of his time sending me on the missions, while he sat here, safe in his office, offering his opinions on what I was doing wrong.  
  
I shrugged, looking from him to Vaughn and back. "I guess I'm used to it." I paused, glancing around the room, hoping that Kendall would take the hint and leave. He didn't, though, and I continued. "I just wanted to check in on a few things here…" I cast a glance at Vaughn, trying not to laugh as he concealed a grin. He and I both knew that the only reason I was here was to see him. "And then I'm headed home," I concluded.  
  
"Good," Kendall said. "You deserve the rest." He turned to Vaughn. "We're done here, Agent Vaughn." He nodded curtly at me before walking briskly away.  
  
"Hey," Vaughn said after Kendall disappeared around the corner. "I'm glad you're back."  
  
"Me too. I wanted to see you before I headed home." He grinned. "The flowers were beautiful."  
  
"I'm glad you liked them," he said, glancing away. "I wanted to be there in person…but I did what I could."  
  
I had to force myself not to reach out and take his hand—to pull him into an embrace right there in the middle of CIA headquarters.   
  
Instead, I settled for teasing him. "Well," I said. "I seem to remember something about a twelfth rose…" I said, my voice trailing off.  
  
Vaughn chuckled. "Right." He paused, and I stared at him curiously. "Check your desk," he said finally. "And I'll see you later."  
  
Abruptly, he turned and walked away, leaving me with a perplexed look on my face. I turned around, still confused, my eyes falling on Weiss, who was watching me with a goofy grin on his face.  
  
No doubt he was in on whatever was going on. I shot him another look as I walked to my desk, and he raised his hands in the air defensively.  
  
I sat down at my desk, my eyes falling immediately on a flash of red. Shielded from view behind one of my never-ending piles of paperwork, lay a single red rose.  
  
I smiled to myself, wondering how Vaughn had managed to get the flower to my desk without drawing all kinds of attention. But then, Vaughn had his ways.   
  
It wasn't until I picked up the rose, smelling it absently, that I saw the note beneath it.  
  
Glancing around nervously, I slipped the unmarked envelope open, pulling out the folded piece of paper inside, and reading it slowly.  
  
'Syd-  
  
You're twelfth rose as promised. You said before you left for Australia that the note I left you wasn't what you had been hoping for. Well, it wasn't what I had wanted to write, either. So I'm making up for it now.  
  
Syd—you are my life. My world. My everything. You make me happy whenever I see you, whenever I talk to you, and when you're gone, I die inside. I can't eat. I can't sleep. And the only thing that keeps me sane is knowing that you'll be back soon.  
  
I love you, Syd, more than I will ever be able to say or to show you. And I wish that we could be together now, and that you could leave this life behind. But since that isn't possible, just know that it will all end someday, and when it does, I'll be waiting there for you.  
  
All my love- V.  
  
p.s. Warehouse. Tonight. 7pm.'  
  
I paused, breathing deeply, and brushing away the streaks of tears that had run down my cheeks, finding myself grateful—so grateful that, despite all the seemingly endless pain in my life, I had something so…beautiful. And in that moment, I loved him more than ever.  
  
After allowing my eyes enough time to recover from the obvious signs that I had been crying, I looked up, hoping to catch Vaughn before he left for the day.  
  
I was startled by Weiss's voice behind me.  
  
"He just left." I turned to look at him, disappointed.  
  
"Did you know about this?" I asked, holding up the note.  
  
Weiss nodded. "I told you. You mean the world to him."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Well? Good, or too mushy. I can never tell. My mushiness meter is off the charts-- to me, all mushiness is good mushiness. But who knows. I could be totally wrong! At any rate, let me know what you think! 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9! Yippee Skippy. I can tell that you are all just terribly excited. Ha :) Let me know what you think. This story is turning into one giant rambling, really, but as long as you guys like it, it's all fine by me. Review, PLEAAAAASE. I didn't get any reviews on chapter 8, and it made me sad :*(  
  
  
  
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Chapter 9  
  
I stepped into the warehouse several hours later, feeling much more comfortable in jeans, a tank top, and sandals.  
  
I tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach, pleased, at least, to realize that they weren't butterflies of nervousness, but of excitement.  
  
Vaughn's note had been the best present I had ever received. Some women wanted diamonds, roses, or chocolate. But the heartfelt words that Vaughn had given to me were worth more than any gift.  
  
I loved him—his brilliant green eyes, his beautiful smile, his intelligence, his sense of humor. But most of all, I loved his heart. I had never met anyone kinder—more caring—in my life.  
  
I scanned the room for him, expecting to find him in his normal spot. I had seen his car outside, but he was nowhere to be seen. I stood motionless for a moment, wondering if something had gone wrong. Unexpectedly, I felt a hand land on my shoulder, and I spun around, landing a well-placed punch squarely on the side of my attacker's face.  
  
It wasn't until my eyes had focused and he had staggered back several feet that I realized my attacker was Vaughn.   
  
"Oh God—" I said, approaching him quickly.  
  
"Hell, Syd…" Vaughn said, removing his hand from his cheek to reveal the beginnings of an angry, red welt. "That wasn't exactly the kind of welcome I was expecting."  
  
"I'm so sorry," I said, resting my hand against his sore cheek. "God. I didn't even think. It was just a reflex…"  
  
"It's a good reflex, he said, chuckling as he opened and shut his mouth, testing his jaw. "You pack quite a punch." He laughed briefly at his joke.  
  
"God," I repeated, not finding the situation nearly as funny as he seemed to. I pushed at the skin of his cheek, stopping immediately as he winced. "Does it hurt?"  
  
He laughed. "Hell, yeah. Nothing an ice pack and an evening with you won't fix, though.  
  
I blushed, looking away. I had just clobbered him in the face. How could he be giving me compliments?  
  
"Come on," he said finally. "There's some ice in the other room.  
  
"There is?" I asked, confused. I hadn't even known that the warehouse had another room. Vaughn nodded, amused, and grabbed my hand, leading me further into the warehouse, to what seemed more like a storage closet than an entire room.  
  
But this was no ordinary storage closet, I realized as I glanced inside. At some point, Vaughn had brought in two folding chairs, which he had placed next to a rickety old table.   
  
And there were candles.   
  
Everywhere.   
  
There had to be a hundred of them—covering every available surface, flickering, and filling the room with the faint scent of vanilla.  
  
I think that I audibly gasped before turning to face him.  
  
"You did all this?" I asked  
  
Vaughn grinned. "Like it?"  
  
I stared at him, unable to think of a single thing to say. We stood in silence for several moments, before I stepped towards him grabbing his hand, and stroking his sore check with my free hand.  
  
Without a word, I leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He returned the kiss, equally gentle, and I pulled away, resting my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me.  
  
"What would I do without you?" I asked, my voice muffled by his shoulder.  
  
"That," he replied, "you will never have to worry about."  
  
I smiled into his shoulder. "I'm sorry I hit you." I mumbled.  
  
"Not your fault. I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that."  
  
"True," I said. He laughed, and I pulled back to look at him. "Still." I avoided his eyes. "Sorry."  
  
"It's ok." He smiled at me, and any last traces of guilt I felt disappeared. "You hungry?" He asked.   
  
"Of course."  
  
"Good," he replied, leading me to a chair. "Sit down. I cooked."  
  
"You cooked?" I asked. Vaughn had never seemed like the type who liked cooking. "Wow."  
  
"Hey—" he said, pretending to be hurt. "Don't act so surprised. "I'm a good cook."  
  
"Tell you what," I said, refusing the chair he had pulled out for me. "You let me put some ice on that cheek of yours, and I promise I'll enjoy—or pretend to enjoy—your cooking."  
  
He glared at me, before nodding.  
  
"You've got a deal. There's ice by the wine."  
  
I grabbed the towel that had been wrapped around the bottle of wine, and placed several cubes of ice in the center.  
  
Walking back towards him, I held the makeshift icepack up. "This is going to be cold. But it'll keep your face from blowing up like a balloon. Believe me. I know."  
  
I noticed his eyes darker at my words, no doubt remembering the long list of injuries I had suffered through over the last few years.   
  
His frown disappeared, though, as I approached him, planting a kiss on his already puffy cheek, before placing the icepack abruptly where my lips had once been. Vaughn jumped as the cold came into contact with his skin.  
  
"So," I said, grinning as he reached up to hold the icepack to his cheek. "Where's the food?" 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 is up. Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I wrote this today at work, and I hope you all like it! I probably won't be writing anything for a week or two... I'm going on vacation starting this weekend. Please read and review, and if you have any ideas as to where I should go after this chapter, please share them with me... I have been plagued with writers block!!  
  
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Chapter 10  
  
We finished our dinner after an hour and a half of conversation. I was especially pleased that, in an hour and a half, I hadn't thought of work once.  
  
I felt like I had learned more about Vaughn in one night than I had in the two years we had known each other. Until now, we had never gotten the chance to just sit and talk—about friends, hobbies, likes and dislikes. It had always been about work. Not that the desire hadn't been there. There had always been hints—traces of a personal life in our conversations. References to hockey games and pizza, casual comments about Francie's latest progress at the restaurant.   
  
But we could never dig deeper. Never ask for more information. Work was work. And our personal lives were off limits.  
  
But not tonight. Tonight had been about us. We had practically attacked each other with questions, filling up on the information we had been starving for over the past years.  
  
And loving each other all the more.  
  
"Well," I said, smiling as I studied his face in the light of the dimming candles. "I'm impressed.  
  
"About what?" He asked, taking a slow sip of wine.  
  
"The food. It was fantastic. I had my doubts about your cooking abilities, but you've definitely proven me wrong."   
  
He chuckled. "I told you. Growing up with a French mother, you learn to cook. Whether you want to or not."   
  
"Well, she taught you well." I said, absently tracing the rim of my empty wine glass.  
  
We lapsed back into comfortable silence for several moments, before Vaughn spoke again.  
  
"Well," he said, his voice hesitant. "Where do we go from here?"  
  
I looked back at him and sighed, my face serious. "I don't know."  
  
Vaughn reached across the table, grasping my hand in his, stroking my palm with his thumb, before moving his hand up to trace the cuts and bruises that covered my other arm.  
  
"I wish I could end all this for you," he said softly, unable to look at me. "It kills me when you come home hurt. When you cry…" his voice trailed off, and he looked up at me shyly. "I just wish—" he paused again. "I wish I could make your life a little easier. But I feel like, if I do this—if we do this," he gestured between the two of us. "I'll just be making your life that much more difficult."  
  
I sighed, realizing that we would have to have this conversation at some point, and now was as good a time as any.  
  
"Vaughn—" I said, squeezing his hand in mine. "If anything, you make my life easier. You're the only person that I can be completely honest with, that I can talk to when I can't talk to anyone else. Just the fact that I can come home after a mission and see you here—" I gestured to the warehouse. "That I can hear your voice, and have you tell me you're glad I'm back safe…that means more to me than I could ever really tell you." I paused, looking into his eyes, making sure that he knew I was telling him the truth before continuing. "I'm not going to lie to you, and tell you that us being together will be easy, that there won't be problems. There will be problems, and it's going to be damn hard for me to see you at work every day, and not be able to touch you, or kiss you. But however hard it will be making this work, it would be a thousand times harder to pretend that none of this ever happened, and to go back to the way we were before."  
  
"I'm scared, Syd," he admitted, avoiding my eyes. "I couldn't bear losing you."  
  
"I'm scared too." I said softly. "Terrified. It's the main reason I never told you how I felt. I didn't want you to get hurt because of me. I didn't want to endanger your career." I paused, waiting until he looked up at me. "But if we're both scared, why not be scared together?"  
  
He watched me for a minute, his forehead wrinkled, before breaking into a soft grin.  
  
"I love you," he said. "So much."  
  
"I love you, too." I pulled his hand up to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on the knuckle of this thumb. "This will all be over someday. That's what's kept me going for these last two years." I smiled. "That, and you."   
  
"Come here," he said, standing up and pulling me up with him. He tugged me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me. Silently, he placed a kiss on the crown of my head.  
  
We stayed like that, swaying slightly back and forth, comforting each other, until we both realized how late it was, and separated, and began counting the hours until the next time we would see each other.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Like I said, if you have any suggestions on where I should go from here, please let me know. My email address is adele1013@email.com. And don't forget to review! 


	11. Chapter 11

Well, guys, I got one more chance to update before my vacation. Lucky you. I really like this chapter, actually. Probably my favorite one so far in this story. Emotional. I got kind of weepy just writing it... lol :) Please review, and let me know what you think. And probably no updates now until August 9th at the earliest--sorry. Relaxation calls!!  
  
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Chapter 11  
  
We didn't see each other again for ten days. I had been sent out on several consecutive missions, each coming so quickly that we were forced to hold our countermission briefings over secure cell phone lines as I waited in the airport for my flight to depart.  
  
In the past ten days, I'd been to London.   
  
To Lagos.   
  
To Baghdad.  
  
I was so tired. I could barely move—barely think. In the brief intervals when I had been able to return home, I had managed to snatch only an hour or two of sleep before rushing back to the airport.  
  
I hauled myself in the door of my house, dumping my overstuffed duffel bag on the ground as I slammed the door shut behind me. The one thing—the only thing—on my mind was getting to my bed, before I fell asleep standing up.  
  
Not bothering to take off my shoes, or to remove the light windbreaker I had wrapped around my shoulders, I worked my way to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed and groaning.  
  
Within minutes I was consumed by sleep, no doubt snoring louder than I ever had before.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I was wakened abruptly by a ringing sound. I struggled to open my eyes, glancing at the clock on my bedside table. I had only been asleep for 14 minutes. My eyes clearing slightly, I searched for the source of the ringing. Still only half awake, I crawled down the bed and grabbed my secure CIA phone. Praying it wasn't Kendall or my father, I switched the phone on.  
  
"'Lo?" I muttered. My voice still slurred by exhaustion, I only managed to get half of the word out of my mouth.  
  
"Hey, Syd. It's me." I smiled slightly, despite the circumstances. Vaughn.  
  
"Hey," I said, my mind still too cloudy to form a coherent sentence.   
  
"I'm glad you're back," Vaughn said. "Tired?" He asked. I shook away some of the fuzziness.  
  
"Just a little," I replied, not exactly sure why I was lying to him.  
  
"Well," he continued, apparently accepting my response at face value. "I've got some bad news.  
  
I sighed. "What?" I asked, bracing myself for the worst.  
  
"Kendall wants to meet with us in the warehouse in an hour. Sounds like he has a strictly CIA mission for us. No SD-6 involved."  
  
I groaned, positive that I couldn't handle another mission so soon. I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone think straight. I was also just as positive that I had no choice in the matter. "Where to?" I asked, trying to hide my lack of enthusiasm.  
  
"Not sure," Vaughn replied. He paused, and I could sense the hesitancy in his voice. "Is everything okay, Syd?" He asked. "Did something go wrong on the last mission?"   
  
I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing myself for being so obvious, and wondering at the same time why I was so reluctant to tell him the truth. To show my weakness.  
  
"No—" I replied, too quickly. "I was just going to catch a quick nap. No big deal," I said, trying to make my voice sound even, though I was suddenly, inexplicably, close to tears. "I'm fine."  
  
"Okay…" Vaughn paused, and I could tell that he wasn't fully buying my story. "I'll see you in an hour, then," he said reluctantly.  
  
"See you," I said, abruptly hanging up as a single tear trickled down my cheek. I wiped the tear away angrily, taking a deep breath, and giving me head a good shake. It was just the exhaustion making me emotional, and I had to snap out of it. I had to get ahold of myself. I wasn't about to show up at the warehouse and talk to Kendall with my eyes puffy and red.  
  
I took another deep breath, before rising from the bed, grabbing my purse, and popping two Tylenols, which would hopefully dull the inevitable headache I would have in an hour or two.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Stifling a yawn, I walked into the dim warehouse an hour later, my eyes falling immediately on Kendall and Vaughn. With a final deep breath as an attempt to clear away the sleepiness that wouldn't disappear, I approached them, my heels echoing hollowly on the hard concrete floor.  
  
"Agent Bristow," Kendall greeted me curtly. "Sorry for the late meeting. I've got a mission for you." I nodded, realizing suddenly that I had no idea what time it was. My eyes shifted over to Vaughn. I wasn't surprised to find his eyes on me, but I was surprised by the deep expression of concern on his face. His brow was furrowed, and his lips were narrowed in a thin frown.  
  
I returned my attention back to Kendall, shifting restlessly in the stiletto heels I'd been wearing since the club in Baghdad.   
  
"You and Agent Vaughn will be going to Istanbul…" My heart sank. Istanbul was at least a 13 hour plane trip. "I need you to retrieve a document from the office of this man—" Kendall continued, holding up a grainy black-and-white photograph. "Abdul Hallam. Iraqi arms dealer." Kendall handed the photograph to me, which I took without looking at it.  
  
"Agent Bristow," Kendall said sharply. "You'll be doing the legwork." I visibly slumped at the word, bracing myself on the table behind me. I saw Vaughn take a protective step towards me from the corner of my eye, before catching himself— probably remembering protocol—and stopping in his tracks.  
  
"Agent Vaughn," Kendall continued, oblivious to my sudden change in posture, "will be on coms in a nearby building. He'll guide you to Hallam's office." I nodded slightly in acknowledgement of Kendall's instructions. "Agent Vaughn will fill you in on the details." Kendall nodded curtly at each of us, and as I watched him head to the door, I realized that I hadn't said a single word since I had arrived.  
  
As soon as the door slammed shut behind Kendall, Vaughn was at my side, placing a hand gently on my shoulder, and leaning down so that he could see my eyes.  
  
"Syd," he said, his brow furrowed, and his green eyes sparkling with concern. "What's the matter?"   
  
I frowned at the question, confused. "What do you mean?" I asked. It dawned on me suddenly that my exhaustion may be more obvious than I thought. "I'm fine," I said, hoping to divert his concern. I was surprised at the sudden anger I saw flash, momentarily, in his eyes.   
  
"Don't do this, Sydney. Not with me. You've got circles under your eyes the size of Texas. You didn't say a word the entire time Kendall was here. And I saw you—you almost fell over in the middle of his brief. I want to know what's wrong!"  
  
I stared at him, and suddenly, all the emotions I had been holding back broke free. "You want to know what's wrong?" I snapped. "I'll tell you what's wrong. I've been home for twelve hours in the last ten days. I've spent almost forty hours on airplanes. I've been beaten up by three separate sets of guards in three different countries. I've got bruised ribs, and a four inch cut on my leg that stings like Hell."   
  
My voice cracked, and I felt the tears burning in my eyes. "And now—now I find out that I'm lucky enough to go to Istanbul—" I chocked back a sob, feeling the first of the tears begin trickling down my cheeks. "I've had less than twenty hours of sleep in ten days. All for a job I hate…" My voice cracked again, and I dissolved into tears, sinking slowly to the floor.  
  
"I'm so tired…" I whispered between sobs. "So tired…"  
  
In the midst of my tears, I felt Vaughn crouch down beside me on the floor, felt him brush stray strands of hair away from my wet cheeks, felt him touch my shoulder, pulling me towards him.  
  
I slammed my body into him, my arms wrapping around his waist, trying desperately to pull him closer to me. He held me, rocking me gently in his arms, whispering soft words in my ear.  
  
That it was okay.  
  
That he was there.  
  
That he loved me.  
  
And eventually, the sobs that had been muffled by his chest lessened to sniffles, and eventually I fell silent, my whole world revolving around the beat of his heart in his chest.  
  
The feel of his arms wrapped around me.  
  
The rhythm of his hand stroking my hair.  
  
The continued murmuring of his voice in my ear.  
  
And amazingly, I felt better. I was still sore. And exhausted.  
  
But he was here.  
  
I finally pulled away, swiping at the remaining dampness under my eyes, and sniffing softly. I offered him a weak, sheepish smile, running my fingers along the tearstains on his soft blue Oxford shirt.  
  
"Sorry—" I started, my voice rough.   
  
"Don't. Apologize." Vaughn said firmly. "There's no place I'd rather be." He placed a feathersoft kiss on my nose, and it was then that I noticed the tracks of tears on his own cheeks.  
  
He had cried for me. With me.  
  
I reached up, tracing the dampness with my thumb. He grabbed my hand with his own, planting another soft kiss on the pad of my thumb.  
  
"Thank you," I whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.  
  
"I love you," he said in return, pulling me again into his embrace.  
  
"I love you, too," I replied, intertwining my fingers with his. "So much. So much…" I murmured. My voice trailed off as I slowly drifted to sleep, wrapped safely in Vaughn's arms.  
  
* * * * *  
  
So there you are-- I will leave you with one parting thought: Review! Review! REVIEW! :) Thanks for reading!! 


	12. Chapter 12

Hey everybody--I'm back from my vacation and feeling very relaxed. Northern Minnesota is awfully nice! I wrote this chapter on a whim today, and I like it quite a bit. Hope you guys do, too. Please read and review, as always, and have a great day!  
  
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Chapter 12  
  
It was dark. Terribly dark. I could feel the sudden silence pressing in on me, suffocating me. I groped around in my vest pocket, relieved when my hand finally came to rest on my high-powered flashlight.  
  
I flipped the switch, blinking as the beam illuminated Hallam's deserted office. Just as I had entered the office, the power had suddenly cut off, enveloping me in blackness. Somehow, the power outage had borken off my communication with Vaughn.  
  
Luckily, he had been able to lead me to Hallam's office before we had lost contact. I knew I could handle it alone from here.  
  
But I missed the comfort of his voice in my ear.   
  
I sighed, shaking the thought from my mind. Now was not the time to get distracted. Someone had purposefully shut off the electricity, and they had done it for a reason. I had to work fast.  
  
I moved quickly to the desk of Abdul Hallam, pulling open the bottom file cabinet, and groping around inside until my finger slipped across the indentation of a small button. I pressed the button, listening to the dry scraping sound behind me as a framed oil painting slid slowly away, revealing the front of a solid steel safe.  
  
I laughed to myself. A safe hidden behind a painting. How original. I had expected more from an international terrorist.  
  
I moved to the safe, opening it with a handy decoder given to me by an edgy CIA technician, who had reminded me very much of Marshall Flinkman.  
  
The document I had come for was lying, unprotected, on top of a stack of papers. I grabbed the file, shut the safe, and quickly pushed the painting back into place. Taking a quick glance around the room, I checked to be sure that nothing was out of place. With a slight nod, I slipped out of the office, flipping off my flashlight beam as I left.   
  
A simple smash and grab.  
  
I smiled to myself as I heard heavy footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Despite how much I sometimes hated this job, I still got a thrill when things went so right. My thoughts drifted back to Vaughn, as I worked my way through the building to an exit. We had agreed earlier to meet at the CIA safehouse in Istanbul if we ever lost contact with each other, and as I hopped out of a first story window and into the darkness of the night, I headed in that direction.   
  
* * * * *  
  
I arrived at the safehouse about twenty minutes later, relieved and grateful that, unlike Sloane, the CIA didn't insist that I wear stiletto heels and short skirts. My feet were killing me as it was, and I was wearing what could be considered comfortable combat boots.   
  
I released a sigh of relief as I entered the old brick building, using a key we had been given before leaving for the mission. I climbed up three flights of stairs, arriving at the top floor apartment and knocking three times in rapid succession, then twice slowly.  
  
I could hear movement from within, and I could imagine Vaughn rushing to the door, looking through the peephole to be sure that it was me. He opened the door smiling, but I could see the tenseness in his eyes. He had been worried.  
  
I smiled broadly and brushed past him, anxious to get my feet and my throbbing leg off the ground. I heard Vaughn chuckle behind me, amused by my attitude.  
  
"I assume everything went okay?" He asked, shutting and bolting the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by a couple yellowed lamps on either side of an old orange couch. The place was a dump.  
  
"Not a single problem, except for the power." I tapped my ear, where the com had been.  
  
"Good," Vaughn said. "Hallam must have realized what was going on and cut the electricity."  
  
I nodded. "It ended up helping me, anyways. It was so dark that the guards walked right past me and didn't even know it." I lowered myself onto the couch, groaning at the stiffness in my back. I was feeling better than I had the day before, but I was still exhausted, and the gash on my leg burned with pain every time I moved.  
  
I made a move to unlace my boots, but Vaughn moved quickly in front of me, kneeling next to me and grabbing my food in his hand.  
  
"Let me," he said.  
  
"Vaughn…" I said, all at once touched and defensive at his words. "I can take off my own boots."  
  
"I know you can," he said, chuckling. "But I can tell it hurts." He gestured to my injured leg and I hesitated, finally nodding, and acknowledging that the leg did hurt. Even more than the day before.  
  
Vaughn quickly undid the laces of the boots, slipping them off and setting them side by side next to the couch.   
  
"Mind if I look?" He asked, placing his hand on my injured calf. I couldn't help but wince at even the slight pressure of his palm against the wound. I nodded, realizing how nice it was to have someone take care of me.  
  
He moved away for a moment, grabbing a first aid kit from an otherwise empty kitchen cabinet. When he returned, he motioned for me to spin around on the couch, and I did, leaning my back against the armrest. He sat down beside me, moving my legs slightly, and then placing them down across his lap.  
  
My heart fluttered at the gesture, and, as he pushed up the loose leg of my pants, his hand running along my leg, my breath stopped completely.  
  
"Sydney…" he breathed, looking up at me with obvious concern. I glanced down at my leg, and I was taken aback by how bad it looked. It was worse than I had anticipated. The gash was red and deep, extending from just below my kneecap to the left side of my calf. The cut was outlined with a deep bluish purple bruise. "You didn't even put anything on it?" Vaughn asked, reaching into the first aid kit to pull out peroxide, cotton balls, and some bandages.  
  
"I didn't realize it was so bad," I said, feeling sheepish. My eyes teared up as Vaughn lightly dabbed some peroxide onto the cut with a cotton ball.  
  
It was true. I hadn't realized the extent of the wound. At the time it had seemed like any other gash I had received. I usually left them alone and they healed after a week or so.  
  
"You're lucky it hasn't gotten infected," he said, a sharpness in his voice that I hadn't been expecting. Tears again sprang to my eyes, partly from his harsh words, and partly from the sting of the peroxide. He glanced up as I sniffed back a tear, his eyes softening.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, absently stroking my ankle with his free hand. "I just worry about you."  
  
I nodded. "I know." And I did know. He would never hurt me. And the only times he had ever spoken harshly to me were when he was concerned about my welfare. I understood. I was the same way with him.  
  
He smiled at me, one of those brilliant smiles that made his eyes sparkle. "Let me get this wrapped up, and you'll be good as new." He wrapped the gauze bandages around my calf securely, bent down, and placed a soft kiss on the area he had just covered.  
  
"Better?" He asked. I blushed, and he grinned.  
  
"Much better." We sat in silence for several moments, neither of us quite sure of what to say. I watched intently as Vaughn's hand stroked slowly up and down the calf of my uninjured leg.  
  
"I'm glad you're here," I said finally. "You have no idea how boring it is to sit in one of these places alone for a day."   
  
He nodded. "I can imagine."  
  
"I had to stay in one for a week, once." I continued. "In Cairo." Vaughn grimaced, and I laughed at his expression. "I know," I said. I was having complete conversations with myself by the time the week was over."  
  
This time it was Vaughn's turn to chuckle. "I would have liked to see that," he said. "I never knew you were quite that crazy." He grinned, and I smacked him on the arm.  
  
"Shut up," I laughed. "You'd be talking to yourself too, if you were cooped up alone for a week." He smiled, accepting the statement.  
  
"Seriously, though," he said. "I'm glad I'm here, too. I always hated the thought of you being stuck in these places by yourself. Especially when you were hurting." He rested his hand on my bandaged leg. We sat in silence again, and I could feel the exhaustion quickly catching up with me.  
  
"Tired?" Vaughn asked. I nodded. He smiled. "I'll help you to the bed."  
  
I shook my head. "I'm okay, really." To demonstrate, I lifted myself up from the couch, standing steadily on both legs.  
  
"Sydney," he said, his voice firm. "Let me help."  
  
I sighed, then nodded in resignation. He wrapped my arm around his shoulder, his hand supporting me at the waist. He insisted, even on the short walk to the dingy bedroom, that I keep all weight off of my leg.   
  
His hand stayed on my waist until he had seen me safely to the bed. He grabbed a pair of sweats from a drawer and placed them on the bed next to me.  
  
"Need anything else?" He asked, gauging my expression. I smiled, shaking my head.  
  
"Okay," he said. "I'm going to change—" he gestured to the door of the bathroom, "and I'll hit the lights when I leave."  
  
I nodded again, waiting until the door shut behind him to change into my sweats. Within moments, I was buried beneath the covers, almost overcome by sleepiness. I heard the bathroom door click open, and saw Vaughn, now clad in similar sweats, come out. He moved silently toward the light switch next to the bed, obviously under the impression that I was already asleep.  
  
As he reached for the light, I grabbed his arm.   
  
"Vaughn?" I mumbled, his arm warm and solid beneath my fingertips.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes concerned.  
  
"Stay with me?" I asked, my voice timid. He smiled softly, and without another word, climbed into bed behind me. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, and I snuggled back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.  
  
After a few moments, before sleep overtook me, I turned my head slightly.  
  
"Thank you," I murmured. He tightened his arms around me, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder, then at the base of my neck.  
  
"Any time, Syd," he whispered. "Any time."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Well, there it is. Chapter 12. Was it good, bad, ugly? If you choose ugly, please don't tell me. I'll cry. lol. Reviews, please!! 


	13. Chapter 13

Ahh… the saga continues! Sorry for the slow update. I've had trouble finding time to add to this story the last couple weeks. Hope you all like this chapter… I think I've finally come up with a plot idea… but who knows.  
  
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Chapter 13  
  
I woke up the next morning to the bright light pouring in through a crack between the curtains of the bedroom. My eyes fluttered open and I scanned the room, slightly disoriented.  
  
And then I remembered.  
  
I was in a safehouse.  
  
In Istanbul.  
  
In bed.  
  
With Vaughn.  
  
I shivered involuntarily at that last thought, remembering the events of the night before. In bed with Vaughn. I didn't know what had gotten into me, asking him to stay. I just knew that I needed him. Needed to feel him close to me. Needed to feel safe.  
  
It took a moment for my other senses to kick in, and as they did, I realized that Vaughn's hand was resting on my stomach, and that I could feel the length of his body pressed against my back.  
  
It felt nice. And it felt safe. Safer than I had felt in a long time.  
  
I sighed happily, realizing that I could really get used to waking up with him every morning. I shifted slightly, hoping to turn and face him without waking him up. Vaughn's forehead wrinkled in concern at the movement, but his eyes didn't open.   
  
I watched him sleep, his breath coming slowly and deeply. I'd only had the opportunity to do this—to watch him sleep—a couple times since we'd known each other, but I was addicted. His hair was ruffled, his face relaxed.   
  
No stress.  
  
No worry.  
  
Just Vaughn.  
  
I smiled again, tracing the line of his jawbone lightly with my finger. He was beautiful.  
  
Slowly, his eyes opened a fraction of a centimeter, adjusting to the light. Eventually, his eyes opened enough for me to see their dark green color. He blinked once slowly, as if the situation was taking a moment to sink in, and then he smiled groggily.  
  
"Hey," he said. His voice was slow and scratchy, and I realized for the first time that he was probably just as exhausted as I was. He had admitted to me once that he didn't sleep well when I was away on missions. And I had been away a lot. I paused, angry at myself. I always complained about my own problems—about my sore muscles and my exhaustion and my screwed up family. But when did Vaughn get the chance to vent? Never. He was too busy being strong for me.  
  
"Hi," I replied softly, watching him as he struggled to push himself up in bed. "Sleep well?"  
  
"Mmm…" he mumbled, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth as his eyes met mine. "Definitely."  
  
I looked away, blushing. "Me too." I replied, suddenly feeling very shy. I looked up as Vaughn cleared his throat, shaking away all vestiges of sleepiness.   
  
"What time is it?" He asked, scanning the room... I turned, glancing at the clock on the end table.   
  
"6:34," I said.   
  
Vaughn groaned. "Why is it," he said, "that no matter how exhausted I am, I can't sleep past seven?"  
  
I shrugged. "Hazard of the job, I guess."  
  
Vaughn laughed. "I guess so."  
  
"So what's the plan for the day?" I asked, watching intently as he ran a hand through his hair and along the stubble of his cheek and chin.  
  
"Well, we should probably check in with Kendall, to see how long he wants us to stay here.  
  
I nodded, frowning at his logical answer. Leave it to Vaughn to get right down to business. I had almost been hoping that he would ask me to run away with him.   
  
Leave the CIA.   
  
Leave SD-6.  
  
Disappear.  
  
Vaughn reached over me to the end table, grabbing his cell phone. He dialed Kendall's secure number, and I watched him as he nodded at Kendall's rapid instructions.  
  
"Yes sir. No problem." Vaughn hung up, and glanced over at me. "Kendall wants us to stay here a few more days. Apparently, Sloane got a bit suspicious when he heard about the theft. A couple of his agents are hanging around."  
  
"So we're stuck here?" I asked, not at all surprised at the smile spreading across my face. Two days, alone with Vaughn. My life was looking up.  
  
Vaughn glanced at me again, and I was pleased to see that he was smiling as well. "Looks that way," he replied.  
  
"Hmm." I said, snuggling back into the covers and closing my eyes. "That's really too bad…"   
  
Vaughn propped his head up on his hand, watching me with a grin. "Yeah. I can tell you're really upset about it."  
  
"Mmmhmm." I mumbled, open my eyes to look at him. "Stuck here all day, with nothing to do but sleep and talk to you. What else could go wrong?"  
  
He frowned at me, but his eyes were sparkling. "Are you implying that I'm boring, Agent Bristow?"  
  
I laughed. "Of course not. We'll just have to think of something interesting to talk about."  
  
"I think I can handle that," he chuckled. "But right now, I think you should get some more sleep. I know you're still tired."  
  
I nodded, not even bothering to argue. "You too," I said, tracing the dark circles under his eyes with my index finger. He frowned. "C'mon, Vaughn," I said, rolling my eyes. "I can see it in your eyes. You're just as exhausted as I am."  
  
"No—" Vaughn started, before I cut him off.  
  
"What is it about guys and admitting their weaknesses?" I asked, more to myself than to him. "Stop trying to be macho and lay down." I commanded.  
  
Vaughn glared at me for several moments, before sinking down on the bed beside me.  
  
"Fine," he said. "But only because you made me."  
  
I chuckled, letting my eyes drift shut. "Whatever you say, Vaughn."  
  
I heard him sigh in resignation, and felt him shift slightly closer to me. And just as I began to drift off once again, I felt his hand grip mine, our fingers intertwining as my world went black.  
  
* * * * *  
  
So? Whaddaya think? Any good? Not much in the way of plot, but maybe I'll work on that in some future chapters. Read and review as always! 


	14. Chapter 14

YAY… chapter 14! With a bit of serious conversation between our two favorite Spies-of-Love. Please let me know what you think! Hmmm... probably more plot will show up in the next couple updates—if I feel like it. But don't worry. The fluffiness will return soon. I enjoy it too much to avoid it for too long!  
  
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Chapter 14  
  
I awoke several hours later, feeling more refreshed than I had in months. I couldn't even remember the last time I had slept for more than ten hours. And it felt great.  
  
I sighed contentedly, rolling over to face Vaughn, and I was startled when I saw that he was gone. I fought momentary panic, before the sounds of movement in the kitchen registered in my mind.  
  
Rolling out of bed, I headed down the hallway to the kitchen, the smell of eggs, bacon, and orange juice greeting me. I was relieved that the CIA had at least given us some decent food. I had spent nights at safehouses with nothing in the pantry but crackers and tepid water.  
  
Vaughn was working busily at the stove, and hadn't realized yet that I was awake. I watched him work in silence, considering his movements. He really wasn't a bad cook. I had still harbored some doubts, even after he had brought me dinner at the warehouse. Most men I knew wouldn't touch a stove with a ten foot pole. But Vaughn—he moved around the kitchen as if he was born there.   
  
I smiled as I watched him work. He was wearing a worn out blue apron, probably something he had found buried in one of the kitchen drawers. The words 'kiss the cook' were plastered across the front in bold, white letters.  
  
"Why not?" I whispered to myself, approaching him silently from behind. I wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling him tense momentarily, then relax in my embrace. I tugged his shoulder, turning him around to face me.  
  
Before he had a chance to say anything, my lips met his, and I felt him growl deep in his chest. It was an amazing feeling, being able to kiss him. I had kissed him hundreds of times in my dreams, but real life was immeasurably better. I pulled away after several long moments, breathless.  
  
Vaughn continued to watch me, and I could have sworn his eyes were a couple shades darker—about the color of emeralds. Beautiful.   
  
He licked his lips, clearing his throat softly before speaking. "Good morning to you, too," he said, his voice rough. "What was that for?"  
  
I chuckled, gesturing to his apron. "Just doing as I'm told."  
  
He glanced down at his chest, dumbfounded. "I should wear this more often." I nodded my agreement, feeling slightly weak as a lopsided grin appeared on his face.  
  
"So," I said, my eyes drifting reluctantly away from his face, over his shoulder, and to the frying pan sizzling on the stove. "What's for breakfast?"  
  
Vaughn chuckled and draped his arm over my shoulders.  
  
"Eggs, toast, bacon and orange juice. Hungry?"  
  
"Starving," I replied.  
  
"Good. I made lots." He removed his arm, and I felt the loss immediately. He quickly dished up two plates, and gestured to the kitchen table. "Have a seat."  
  
I did, and he moved to sit down beside me. We ate in comfortable silence for several minutes. After awhile, I glanced up at him, a questioning look on my face.  
  
"Vaughn? Can I ask you something serious?" He looked up from his food.  
  
"Of course." He watched me, curious.  
  
"Why can't you sleep when I'm away on missions?" I asked.  
  
He frowned, obviously not expecting the question. "You know why, Syd."  
  
I shook my head at his answer. "No. I know that you worry about me getting hurt. But there's more to it than that."  
  
He frowned, and I reached across the table to grab his hand in mine.  
  
"You can tell me, Vaughn. I want to know. You've given me so much strength, and I want to give some of it back to you if I can."  
  
He looked at me for a moment, then nodded, still frowning. "I don't just worry about you getting hurt," he admitted. "I worry about losing you. My father… I know now that he went on missions like yours. I remember waiting up that night, when he said he would be home. I waited, but he never came."   
  
Vaughn stared down at his hands. I watched him, realizing for the first time how much the loss of his father still bothered him.  
  
"You're the only good thing in my life right now, Syd." He looked back up at me, and I was taken aback by the raw pain I saw in his eyes. "And if you—if anything happened to you—" he hesitated. "I don't know what I'd do. I don't think I could handle losing another person I love."  
  
He paused again before continuing. "I never wanted to say anything to you… you've lost so much more than I have—your mother, your fiancée. I didn't want to remind you of that pain. I didn't want to add my problems to yours."  
  
I hesitated, not quite sure how to respond to his confession. Finally, I just shook my head, squeezing his hand tightly in mine.   
  
"Vaughn…" I sighed. What could I say to something like that? "We're both grieving. But it's easier—on both of us—when there's someone around to talk to. I feel like I can talk to you, and I want you to feel the same way about me."  
  
He nodded, squeezing my hand tightly. "I do." He replied. "Just never leave me, okay?" He asked, his eyes meeting mine, pleading with me. My heart contracted at his words.  
  
"Never," I replied, my voice firm. And I wouldn't. No matter what happened. I'd always come home. I'd always be there for him, just like he had always been there for me.  
  
We sat in silence, our food forgotten, and our eyes communicating the emotions that we couldn't put into words.  
  
Eventually, Vaughn shifted in his seat, smiling sheepishly. "I have a serious question for you, too." He said.  
  
"Okay," I said, smiling nervously.  
  
"Why do you always call me Vaughn?"  
  
I choked back a laugh. "That's it?" I asked, smiling in disbelief. "That's your serious question?"  
  
"I've always wondered," he said, nodding. I continued to grin, until I realized that he really was serious.  
  
"Okay," I said, still smiling slightly. "For some reason, it's always seemed more personal to me. Agent Vaughn is so formal, and I've never really known you as Michael. It just… makes me feel closer to you, if that makes any sense."  
  
Vaughn nodded. "It makes perfect sense." He chuckled. "Good answer."  
  
"Thanks," I replied. I squeezed his hand once more before releasing it and rising from my chair. I stretched, yawning loudly.  
  
Vaughn watched me, amused. "You're looking rested."  
  
"I am," I replied. "I slept longer last night than I have in months."  
  
"I can tell," Vaughn said. "You look a lot better—" he caught himself, and smiled up at me sheepishly. "Not that you didn't look great before…" he trailed off as I shot him a glance.  
  
"Good save, Vaughn," I said dryly.  
  
"Oh, come on, Syd," he said. "You know you're always gorgeous to me."  
  
My heart melted at his simple statement, and, try as I might, I couldn't come up with a suitable comeback. I settled for blushing instead.  
  
"Thanks," I replied softly. Vaughn rose from his chair, pulling me up with him. He planted a soft kiss on my lips.  
  
"Any time." He pulled away slightly. "I'll finish up the dirty dishes, if you want dibs on the shower," he said, his voice low. He was hovering close to me, his lips only centimeters away from mine.   
  
I smiled inwardly. Only Vaughn could talk about dirty dishes and make it sound sexy.  
  
I nodded, distracted by his closeness.  
  
He smiled, and turned back towards the sink. I watched him for several seconds longer, already missing his closeness, before heading to the shower.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Well, hope you liked it… it was a bit slow, I think, but things will pick up soon! Let me know what you think!! 


	15. Chapter 15

Warning: Plot begins below. Oh no! Didn't want to take you all off guard. Don't worry, though. It won't be too in-depth. I'm not capable of much more than this! And the fluffiness will return soon... I can't live long without it :) Read and review, please!!  
  
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Chapter 15  
  
I stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and alert. Wiping away the steam from the mirror over the sink, I studied my face. I was pleased to see that evidence of my exhaustion had all but disappeared. The color in my cheeks had returned, and my eyes were no longer clouded, but sparkling and alert.  
  
I continued to stare at my reflection in the mirror, briefly considering whether I should fix myself up a little. I was, after all, trapped in a safehouse with Michael Vaughn. Who wouldn't want to look good?  
  
I frowned, pressing at the slight wrinkles at the corners of my eyes and mouth, sighing. Vaughn wanted me to be open with him—to be myself. I decided that if he had really meant that, he could handle me with no makeup, a few wrinkles, and a bandaged leg.  
  
I left the bathroom, clad in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, only limping slightly at the pain in my leg.  
  
I scanned the bedroom, looking for Vaughn. The room was empty, the bed still rumpled and unmade.  
  
"Vaughn?" I called out, moving through the bedroom to the kitchen. "The shower's all yours!"  
  
My brow furrowed when he didn't respond. I glanced around the kitchen curiously. It was deserted, as was the small family room. Frowning, I turned back to the kitchen. The faucet was still running, the water slowly flowing over the edges of a half-cleaned frying pan.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
And that's when I saw it.   
  
It wouldn't have been noticeable to anyone else, but to my well-trained eye, it jumped out at me like a stoplight.  
  
I felt panic build in my chest as I rushed to the edge of the sink.  
  
Blood.  
  
It was blood.  
  
Barely visible, but smeared on the sharp edge of the sink. Someone had tried to wipe it away. Someone hadn't wanted me to see.  
  
I turned again, this time rushing to the entryway of the apartment. The door stood open to the outside hallway.   
  
I retrieved my gun from the kitchen counter and cautiously entered the hallway, gun raised in front of me. I turned rapidly to look down one side of the hallway, then the other, before letting my hands fall to my side.   
  
There was no one.  
  
The hall was deserted.  
  
Vaughn was gone.  
  
* * * * *  
  
DUH DUH DUH… cliffhanger… hope you guys liked it. Sorry it was so short. I need to brainstorm before I write any more… please read and review! 


	16. Chapter 16

Well, took me awhile to decide how to continue, but I think I've got it figured out. For at least a couple chapters after this. YAY! Please let me know what you think. And thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. They were much appreciated!!!  
  
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Chapter 16  
  
I was frozen for a moment, unable to think, unable to act.  
  
Vaughn was gone.  
  
Gone.  
  
Gone.  
  
The word kept repeating in my mind, panic constricting my chest, and making me feel sick.  
  
I breathed deeply, trying to get a hold of my runaway emotions.  
  
I had to. For Vaughn's sake.  
  
Without another thought, I grabbed my cell phone, dialing my father's number. The phone rang four times before he picked up, and I remembered that it was about two in the morning in Los Angeles.  
  
I didn't care.  
  
Vaughn was gone.  
  
"Dad?" I asked when he picked up on the other line. My voice was sharp, my panic evident.  
  
"Sydney?" His voice was gravelly, slow with sleep. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Vaughn is gone," I said, trying in vain to hold back the tears that began to roll down my cheeks.  
  
"Gone?" He asked, confused.  
  
"I got out of the shower this morning, and he was gone. And there was blood—" my words were coming fast now, and my voice cracked.  
  
My dad paused on the other end of the line. "Any idea where he could have gone?"  
  
I shook my head desperately. "No." I knew it had to be Sloane's men. Somehow they had found the safehouse. But they could be on the other side of Istanbul by now.  
  
Another pause from my father. "And you're sure that he was abducted. That he didn't… leave voluntarily?"  
  
I hesitated, before my father's meaning registered in my mind.  
  
"No!" I practically shouted. "I know where Vaughn's loyalties are—with me!" I cut myself off. "With the CIA," I corrected lamely.  
  
"Sydney," my dad said, ignoring my outburst. "I don't know what your… personal relationship with Agent Vaughn is." He hesitated. "But we must consider all possibilities."  
  
I sat in stony silence.  
  
"Sydney…" he said, his voice emotionless. "It's the logical thing—"  
  
I silently switched my cell phone off, refusing to consider the possibility that Vaughn was a traitor, and unwilling to accept the help of someone who would even think to suggest it.  
  
I know it was stupid.  
  
And stubborn.   
  
But I also knew Vaughn. He wasn't a traitor.   
  
And I knew that I could find him alone.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I left the third floor apartment about fifteen minutes later, outfitted in a loose, flowing dress, a straight, black wig hitting just below my shoulders. My eyes were blue.  
  
After all, no matter how desperate I was to find Vaughn, I still had to be cautious. I wouldn't be any help to him if Sloane's men caught me, as well.  
  
With a last glance at my reflection in the mirror, I headed out the door to begin my search.  
  
* * * * *  
  
When I returned, it was past dark, and I hadn't found a thing. I had scoured the city, asking everyone in the surrounding area if they had seen anything suspicious.  
  
I had checked out seedy clubs, abandoned warehouses, anywhere I could think of.   
  
Nothing.  
  
I collapsed on the couch, realizing in the back of my mind that I wasn't safe here. Someone had found Vaughn here, and they could just as easily find me.  
  
But I couldn't bring myself to leave.  
  
And where would I go? Not back to LA. I couldn't leave without Vaughn.  
  
I felt helpless.  
  
I needed Vaughn. More than I had ever realized before. I needed him with me. He was my strength.   
  
He was all that I had.  
  
I lowered my head into my hands, finally giving in to desperate tears.  
  
I don't know how long I cried, but eventually, sobs turned to sniffles. I remained motionless, frozen in the same position on the couch.  
  
And then I heard it. A rustling from the other side of the door. I tensed, the hairs prickling on the back of my neck. They had come back. They had taken Vaughn, and they had come back for me.  
  
I couldn't help an irrational wave of anger. If they were going to take both of us, why not at the same time? Why take it upon themselves to make two trips?  
  
I pushed the irrelevant thought away, silently drawing my gun and approaching the door.  
  
I heard the firing mechanism of a gun cock on the other side of the door. I tensed, ready for attack, my last thought that even if they did catch me, they would at least bring me to Vaughn.  
  
Without another thought, I flung the door open.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Yes. I know. Another cliffhanger. But you have to admit, it makes it more fun! At least it does for me. Builds anticipation of the next chapter and all that. Anyways, hope you liked this chapter… more a transitional chapter than anything else, so sorry if it was kind of boring. Should pick up in the next few chapters. Read and review, please and thanks! 


	17. Chapter 17

Well guys, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it. Chapter 18 will be up in the next few days, probably. Let me know what you think!!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chapter 17  
  
I leapt into the dark hallway, hoping to take my attacker off guard. Instead, I found myself face to face with the barrel of a gun. Whoever was out there had been waiting for me to come out.   
  
I froze, squinting as my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light of the hallway.  
  
"Drop it," the intruder muttered, his voice slurred. I slowly bent down, my hands raised, and dropped my gun on the floor with a thud.  
  
By then, my eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness. I frowned at the man standing in front of me. He was leaning unsteadily against the wall, his face obscured by the brim of a dark baseball cap. His   
  
aim, though, was as steady as ever, and I knew that I was in no position to mess with him.  
  
He reached out unsteadily with one foot, kicking my gun out of reach. Only then did he relax his aim slightly.  
  
"Who are you?" He asked. Again his voice was slurred, and I found myself wondering momentarily if he was drunk. He was still leaning heavily against the wall. I squinted again, confused. There was something   
  
familiar about the man.  
  
"I said, who are you?" He repeated, his voice rising in agitation. And then it clicked. His voice was different, and I hadn't recognized it right away. But I heard something familiar in the intonation of his words, and   
  
wondered how I could have missed it before.   
  
"Vaughn?" I asked, stepping forward hesitantly. His head jerked up at the name, and I caught a glimpse of his brilliant green eyes. An enormous wave of relief washed over me. He was okay.  
  
"How do you know my name?" He asked, stepping away from me, swaying slightly. "What have you done with her?"  
  
I looked at him, confused. "Who?"  
  
"Sydney," he muttered. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you."  
  
"Vaughn," I said, my voice growing soft. "It's me. I'm right here. I'm okay."  
  
He stared at me, his brow wrinkled.  
  
"No…" he trailed off. "Your hair…" he swayed again. Something was obviously wrong with him, and he was getting worse. I could barely see him in the darkness, but there were vague outlines of bruises on his face   
  
and arms.  
  
I reached up to touch my hair, confused by his comment, and realized that I was still wearing the black wig I had used as a makeshift disguise earlier that day. No wonder he hadn't recognized me. I pulled the wig   
  
loose.  
  
"It's a wig, Vaughn." I said, moving toward him, and placing a steadying hand on his aim. "It's me."  
  
"Syd?" He asked, reaching up and placing his palm on my cheek, as if to reassure himself that it was really me. I felt his body waver, and before I could even try to break his fall, he had collapsed.  
  
"Vaughn?" I questioned, falling to my kneeling beside him. He looked up at me, his green eyes clouded as he struggled to stay conscious. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Where are you hurt?"  
  
"Head…" he muttered, the words barely a whisper before his eyes fluttered shut.  
  
"Vaughn?" I asked, shaking his shoulder slightly. No response.  
  
For a moment I deliberated my options. Vaughn obviously needed medical attention, but we also needed to find another safehouse. The longer we stayed here, the more danger we were in.  
  
After several seconds, I grabbed Vaughn, dragging him back into the apartment. We wouldn't get far with him unconscious, and whatever injuries he had could be life-threatening.  
  
With a bit of effort, I had pulled Vaughn's inert form to the bedroom, bolting the door behind me.  
  
In the brighter light of the bedroom, I finally saw how badly Vaughn was injured. He had obviously been beaten. His bottom lip was swollen and bleeding, and a large, ugly bruise was forming around his left eye.  
  
I ran my hand along the length of his limbs, feeling for the unusual bumps of broken bones, relieved when I didn't find any. Lifting his head gently, I felt along the base of his skull, not surprised to find a large bump.   
  
The bump was probably the source of Vaughn's slurred speech, and the reason he had passed out. He most likely had a concussion. I pulled my hand away, my fingers thinly coated with his blood.  
  
I frowned in concern. He wasn't in good shape, but it was nothing that I couldn't take care of on my own. I needed to get the swelling down and the bleeding stopped.  
  
I sighed. That was one of the very few benefits of being a spy—I had learned how to treat all kinds of injuries.  
  
Quietly, without disturbing Vaughn, I rose from the bed, retrieving a damp cloth from the bathroom. I returned, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to Vaughn, wiping away the caked blood on his arms, legs, face,   
  
and the back of his head, all the while cursing the people who had done this to him.  
  
After several minutes, I had bandaged his more serious cuts, and had rested the back of his head on a Ziploc bag filled with ice. The swelling around his lip and eye had decreased a bit, leaving purple and dark blue   
  
bruises.  
  
He was a sight to be seen, and if circumstances were different, we probably would have laughed about it.  
  
But circumstances weren't different. The truth was, if the blow to Vaughn's head had been even an inch lower, his spinal chord would have been damaged. He would have been lucky to have the use of his legs.   
  
More likely—he would have been dead. The thought sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine.  
  
I had almost lost him, and the thought was sobering. I watched him as he slept, unwilling to leave his side. I knew that I should have been calling the CIA, telling them what happened. I should have been finding   
  
another safehouse. I should have been worrying about the danger we were in.  
  
But at that moment, nothing mattered more to me than Vaughn.  
  
I brushed his face with my fingers, and his eyes fluttered open, scanning the room before landing back on me.  
  
"Hey," I said, smiling down at him.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Hey." His voice was weak, but clear. I felt relief sweep over me. If his voice was back to normal, then his condition was definitely improving.  
  
"You feeling better?" I asked. He nodded, but winced at the movement. "Head still hurt?" I smiled sympathetically.  
  
He frowned, avoiding the nod this time. "That obvious?" He asked.  
  
I returned his smile. "Yeah."  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked, his brow furrowing. I laughed at the question.  
  
"Vaughn, I'm the last thing you should be worrying about. You look like you got hit by a truck."  
  
He chuckled. "Thanks." He paused. "Sorry I almost shot you." I chuckled at his statement.  
  
"It's okay. It was an honest mistake. Plus, you were delusional." He chuckled, then looked up at me again, his face suddenly serious.  
  
"I thought that someone had come for you...you looked so different..." He said, reaching up to touch my hair.  
  
I nodded. "Sorry about that. I was so exhausted after looking for you that I completely forgot about the wig."  
  
"Honest mistake," he said, smiling as he repeated my earlier statement. He paused again. "We need to get out of here. By now they know I escaped, and they probably figured out where I was headed."  
  
I nodded. "Soon. But you need to rest a little longer." He knew I was right, and didn't even bother to argue. "Get some sleep." I said. "I'll wake you up in an hour, and we'll get out of here if you're up to it. Okay?"  
  
He nodded, again wincing at the movement. "Stay with me?" He asked, already struggling to keep his eyes open.  
  
"Of course." I smiled, stroking his forehead as I watched him fall asleep.  
  
* * * * *  
  
So, what did you think? It's all downhill from now, so don't you worry! Fluff, fluff, fluff to come. Reviews are, as always, much appreciated :) 


	18. Chapter 18

And the saga continues. I had a question in one of my reviews, about whether or not Vaughn and Syd are together. The answer is yes… sorry if that wasn't clear. Sometimes things make sense to me, but not to the people that read my stories. Anyways… thanks for pointing that out!! Hope you like this chapter. It's more of a transition than anything else, but I hope you like it anyways!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chapter 18  
  
I was sitting in the kitchen of the safehouse, waiting for my dad to answer the phone. Vaugh was still fast asleep in the bedroom.  
  
"Jack Bristow." My father's voice boomed on the other end of the line.  
  
"It's me," I said, my voice low.  
  
"Sydney," my father replied. His voice was stern, but I could still detect the faintest hint of relief underlying his annoyance. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine. I'm sorry I hung up on you before."  
  
Ignoring my apology, he continued. "And Agent Vaughn?" He inquired.  
  
"He escaped and found his way back here. He's hurt badly, but I think everything's under control." I paused, allowing my father time to express relief at Vaughn's return. My father and Vaughn had never really gotten along, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I had always hoped that they would get along someday. After all, Vaughn was the man I loved.   
  
But instead of spouting off about the finer aspects of Vaughn's personality, or at least expressing the relief he felt at hearing that Vaughn was safe, my father continued on with his questions. "Any word on where he was? On what happened?"  
  
I sighed, exasperated. "No. He's still weak, and I wanted to give him the time to recover before we moved. Giving him the third degree didn't seem appropriate," I said sharply.  
  
My father ignored the tone of my voice. "Moved?" He asked.  
  
"We need to relocate." I said. "Someone obviously knows that we're here, and it's only a matter of time before they come back to finish what they started."  
  
My father paused on the other end of the line, and I could hear his muffled voice talking to someone. The sounds grew louder as he no doubt stretched the limits of his authority, and his vocal chords.   
  
I sighed again, tapping my foot impatiently against the leg of the kitchen table. My dad certainly wasn't the best at expressing his emotions, but he still knew how to get things done when it came down to it.  
  
After several more minutes of muffled yelling, my father came back on the line.  
  
"Sydney—we have set you and Agent Vaughn up at the Tashkonak Hotel. It's about twenty minutes from your current location. We've sent an agent to transport you in a taxi cab, and he should be there in a few minutes. The room is reserved under the names Ashley and Paul Lawrence. There will be two airplane tickets to LA waiting for you. The flight leaves in two days."  
  
I nodded absently, relieved at finally having a plan of action.  
  
"Thanks, Dad."  
  
There were several moments of awkward silence before he spoke again.   
  
"I want you out of there now, Sydney. If Sloane's men are behind this, they won't waste any time in coming back. We don't know what's going on, or how they found you. It's dangerous for you to stay where you are any longer than necessary."  
  
"We'll leave right after I get off the phone."  
  
"Good," he replied, hesitating. "And Sydney…"  
  
"What?" I asked, anxious to get off the line.  
  
"Be careful."  
  
I opened my mouth to respond, but the line was already dead.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Within minutes, I had nudged Vaughn awake, and had gathered together our few belongings. Vaughn stepped out of the bedroom, moving slowly to stand beside me.  
  
"Ready to go?" I asked, grabbing his hand in mine.  
  
He smiled halfheartedly, and I could tell that he still felt terrible. He was walking slowly and unsteadily, and I wrapped my arm around his waist to support him.  
  
The contact brought a brief but genuine smile to his face, and he bend down, despite the pain that the movement caused, to brush his lips against mine.  
  
I returned his smile, feeling my own legs growing a bit unsteady after his gentle kiss.  
  
"I missed you," he said quietly.  
  
I laughed. "You were only asleep for an hour."  
  
He chuckled, wincing again at the effort. "Not now. When they had me." He gestured to his bruised eye.  
  
I frowned. I again pressed back the anger that welled up within me. There would be a time to express anger at the men who had done this to him, but now wasn't that time.  
  
"I missed you, too. I was so scared that they had killed you. I saw the blood—" I shook the thought away. "But you're here now." I looked him up and down. "And with only moderate damage."  
  
He smiled, and we headed slowly downstairs to our waiting cab. Vaughn's steps began to waver about halfway down, and I paused, glancing up at him.  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked, concern wrinkling my brow. His lips were pressed tightly together, and his face had drained of all color.   
  
But he nodded, almost imperceptibly.  
  
I hesitated, watching him for a few more seconds before slowly continuing on, my arm gripping him more tightly as I felt him grow weaker.  
  
We finally reached the cab, and I helped Vaughn lower himself into the back seat. He groaned softly, his head falling back against the headrest.  
  
I kneeled down beside his open door, resting my hand on his cheek, which I noticed was slightly warm.  
  
"Twenty more minutes, Vaughn," I said softly. "Twenty more minutes and you can lay down again, okay?"   
  
Again, his nod was barely perceptible. He wasn't doing well at all.  
  
I sighed, stroking his cheek once more, before running to the other side of the cab and slamming the door behind me.  
  
* * * * *  
  
So there you go… Syd and Vaughn on a little road trip across Istanbul. I have some ideas for the next few chapters, so keep checking for updates!! And keep reviewing! 


	19. Chapter 19

Sorry—it took me awhile to post this. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to do next… angst or fluff… and, well, I chose fluff. Cuz my life has enough angst as is. So, read and enjoy! I had a great time writing this chapter, so I hope you like it too!!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chapter 19  
  
When we finally reached the hotel, I had to practically carry Vaughn to the elevator and into the bedroom of our hotel room. I had watched him grow weaker as we drove across the city, and I had gotten more and more worried as time went on.  
  
He had cracked a few halfhearted jokes in the beginning, making fun of his own weakness, but the jokes had stopped, his face had become drawn, and his eyes had eventually drifted shut.  
  
Once we reached the bedroom, I helped lower Vaughn onto the bed, pulling the covers over his still form. I watched for a moment, hoping for some kind of movement or sound, but he remained still, the hiss of his soft, rhythmic breathing the only sound in the room.   
  
I knew how he felt. I had endured similar injuries myself. The pain was excruciating, and the urge to sleep was, literally, irresistible.  
  
I left Vaughn alone, knowing that he needed some time for undisturbed sleep. I wandered around the hotel room, impressed by the size of it.  
  
There was a small kitchenette, with a limited supply of food tucked away in a mini refrigerator. There was also a small sitting area, with a couch, a coffee table, and a tiny, ancient television set. All in all, it was pretty luxurious, compared to many of the safehouses I had visited before.  
  
I walked over to the large window, pulling the curtains away. The city of Istanbul stretched out before me, and I remembered for a moment one of the few reasons I still enjoyed my job. I would never have seen such a place as a teacher. Or even as a banker.  
  
I allowed myself to enjoy the view for several more minutes, before my thoughts turned back to Vaughn.  
  
I was worried about him.  
  
And even though I knew that nothing could help him more than sleep, I couldn't stay away. I silently returned to the bedroom, sitting down in a chair next to the bed, watching him sleep. Just the act of watching his chest rise and fall, just being near him, made me feel safer—more at ease.  
  
I yawned, feeling my own exhaustion suddenly catch up with me. Eventually, after watching Vaughn for several more minutes, I drifted off to sleep.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I awoke much later, and the light outside the bedroom window had dimmed significantly. I frowned, already feeling the crick in my neck, which would no doubt grow into a full-blown headache later that evening.  
  
My head was balanced crookedly on the palm of my hand, and I reluctantly lifted it up, wincing at the sharp pains that shot through my neck.  
  
I stretched, glancing around the room as the haziness of sleep wore off. It was only then that I noticed Vaughn.  
  
He had rolled over onto this side, and his eyes were open, clearer than I had seen them in days. He was watching me, and his lips turned up in a slight smile as my eyes came to rest on his.  
  
"Hey," he said, his voice gravelly.  
  
I returned his smile, moving immediately to sit beside him on the bed. "Hi," I replied, moving my hand to his forehead. I pretended to fuss over determining his temperature, but I was really just looking for any excuse to touch him. I realized, though, that I didn't need an excuse. I loved him. He loved me. What was I doing?  
  
I leaned down, wrapped my arms around him, and buried my head in the crook of his neck.  
  
"I'm glad you're awake," I mumbled. "You had me worried for awhile." I pulled away only slightly, enough to look into his eyes again. "Are you feeling better?" My brow wrinkled in concern, and he reached up to trace the lines on my forehead.  
  
"Much better," he replied honestly. "My head still hurts like Hell, though."  
  
I frowned, placing my fingertips on his temple. "I'll get you some Aspirin," I said, moving to get up.  
  
"No," he said sharply, grabbing my arm. I could feel the strength of his grip, and I again felt relief. He really was doing better. "I can handle the pain," he continued, as he pulled me back down next to him.  
  
I giggled at the feeling, then blushed at the fact that I had giggled. "You are feeling better," I said, smiling down at him.  
  
"I feel better whenever you're around," he said, grinning.   
  
I smacked him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. "You're just trying to get on my good side," I said.  
  
He looked at me, pretending to be hurt. "You mean I'm not already?"  
  
I smiled, chuckling. "Shut up."  
  
"I knew it," he said, pushing himself up gingerly, so that his back was resting against the headboard of the bed.  
  
"Don't get too cocky, Vaughn," I warned. "You're still pretty weak, and I could take you down in a second, even on one of your good day."  
  
He laughed. "You're right. I'd better quit while I'm ahead."  
  
I nodded in agreement, and we sat in silence, smiling at each other for several seconds.  
  
"Thanks for taking care of me," Vaughn said seriously.  
  
I shook my head. "It's nothing, Vaughn."  
  
"No. It's definitely something," he whispered, reaching up to brush my hair away from my shoulder, before pulling my lips down to his.  
  
Our lips touched, and I felt sparks shoot up my spine. I smiled as we continued to kiss, his left hand moving to rest on my waist, his right tangling in the strands of my hair. I moaned softly, sinking down beside him before pulling away slightly. We were both breathless, and I could feel the flush that had crept into my cheeks.  
  
"Vaughn," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.  
  
"Mmm?" He asked, the sound more a hum than an actual question as he moved his lips to my cheeks, my nose, my collarbone.  
  
"Vaughn…" I said again, gently pushing him away. "You're not up to this."  
  
He grinned, and his eyes darkened. "Oh, I think I am," he said, his voice low and harsh.  
  
I felt my insides melt at his words, at the sound of his voice, and I had to shake my head to regain my focus, to concentrate on something other than his lips and the closeness of his body to my own. I leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before smiling. "You may think you are, but you're not," I said. "Four hours ago, you couldn't even stand up on your own."  
  
He opened his mouth to protest, but I silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips.  
  
"I'm not kidding, Vaughn. I've had concussions before, and I know that you have, too. They're nothing to mess around with. You need to rest."  
  
His hand fell away from my waist, his face defeated. "I know," he said, pouting. "You're right." He paused, before looking up at me, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips. "But I'm definitely taking a rain check."  
  
"And I'll hold you to it," I replied softly. "Now, why don't you get some more sleep, and I'll fix us some food." I moved to stand up, but again his hand wrapped around my forearm, holding me back.  
  
"Syd," he said, already sounding sleepy. "We're stuck here for two days. I'm tired. You're tired. Food can wait."  
  
I paused, mentally debating what I wanted more—food or sleep.  
  
"Besides," Vaughn continued, oblivious to my thoughts. "I'll sleep better if you're here." My heart fluttered at his words, and I knew that my decision had just been made for me.  
  
"Fine," I replied, trying in vain to sound exasperated. "Two hours. But much longer than that and my stomach will have something to say about it."  
  
Vaughn smiled, satisfied, and sank back down on the bed, dragging me with him. We snuggled together, my back resting against his chest, and his arm wrapped loosely around my waist.  
  
Just as I was about to drift off, I felt his breath brush softly against my ear.  
  
"I love you so much, Syd," he whispered.   
  
I smiled, reaching up to my waist to squeeze his hand in mine.  
  
"I love you, too," I replied.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Heehee… I like the fluffiness. Hope you guys liked it too. Reviews are always appreciated. If you have any suggestions on further plot development (or should I say fluff development) feel free to mention it. I can sense some writer's block approaching. 


	20. Chapter 20

Well, this is by far the stupidest chapter I've written so far…but I hadn't written anything in awhile, so I felt like I should add at least a little update. Where plot is concerned, this chapter is a barren wasteland, mostly because I haven't been able to think of a plot, yet. Hopefully things will get better after this chapter. Perhaps a brilliant idea will come to me. Gosh…I hope so!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chapter 20  
  
I woke up the next morning feeling warm and comfortable. I was curled up against Vaughn's motionless form, my head nestled against his chest. I moved my head slightly to look up at him. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep and regular.  
  
He was still fast asleep.  
  
I moved away from him, careful not to disturb him as I rose from the bed. I shivered at the loss of his body heat, which had kept me warm all night. Grabbing the spare blanket at the foot of the bed, I wrapped it tightly around my shoulders.   
  
My mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only.  
  
Food.  
  
Obviously, since the sun had just barely begun to peek over the roofs of the buildings outside, we had slept for quite a bit longer than two hours. In fact, I could vaguely remember waking up at some point that night, realizing that the sun had set and that my stomach was growling.   
  
But when my eyes had fallen on Vaughn, laying still and peaceful beside me, I could have cared less.  
  
Now, though, the rumblings from my stomach couldn't be ignored. I was determined to find something to eat, and no amount of cuddling with Vaughn could change my mind.  
  
I, unlike Vaughn, am not a good cook, and as my eyes scanned the sparse choices in the hotel's mini refrigerator, I could feel my heart sinking. My choices were limited. And considering that, breakfast-wise, all I could make was burnt toast, my odds of creating a decent meal weren't looking that good.  
  
But it couldn't hurt to try.  
  
I smiled overconfidently, pulling eggs, milk, and butter from the small refrigerator.  
  
I could handle scrambled eggs. Who couldn't handle scrambled eggs?  
  
Of course, I'd never tried…  
  
I shrugged. How hard could it be?  
  
* * * * *  
  
After twenty minutes, I had managed to turn the tiny hotel kitchenette into a disaster area. My attempt at scrambled eggs lay in a caked, charred layer at the bottom of the frying pan, and a thin layer of smoke had risen to the ceiling of the room. Luckily, I hadn't burned anything enough to set off the fire alarm or sprinklers.  
  
I sighed, carrying the frying pan to the sink. I turned the water on hot, and began what was sure to be a long process of chipping off what remained of the eggs.  
  
I scrubbed for awhile, my hands turning red from the hot water. After about five minutes, I gave up, accepting the fact that the pan was ruined.  
  
I stared at it for several moments in annoyance, before I felt a warm pair of arms wrap securely around my waist.  
  
I couldn't help but smile.  
  
"Morning, Sleepyhead," I said, leaning my head back to greet him.  
  
"Morning," he replied. "I can see that you've been hard at work. He quirked an eyebrow at me as he suppressed a smile.  
  
I nodded. "Unfortunately, I don't have much to show for it." I gestured to the pan.  
  
"Unless you were hoping to make charcoal for breakfast—" He chuckled, moving away from me to peer into the sink. "What WAS this?" He asked.  
  
"Eggs," I replied.  
  
"Really?" He asked, his voice surprised.   
  
"Yes," I said defensively, swatting him on the arm. He cocked his eyebrow at me again, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. "Hey," I continued, pouting. "Don't look at me like that. I never had a French mother to teach me how to cook."  
  
I hadn't meant the comment to sounds so serious—hadn't meant to bring up my mother—but I had, and Vaughn's face immediately fell.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, frowning.  
  
"Don't be," I replied, my voice genuine. "It's not your fault." I smiled. "And besides. I have no one to blame for my poor cooking abilities but myself."  
  
Vaughn's smile returned as he moved towards me, placing a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, then on my lips.  
  
"Well, consider yourself lucky," he said, pulling away. "You are standing in the presence of culinary greatness."  
  
"I looked at him skeptically.  
  
"Well," he said, his voice slightly less confident. "Maybe not greatness. But when I cook eggs, they don't come out looking like charcoal."  
  
"Good point," I said. "In that case," I continued, "why don't you handle the eggs, while I take a quick shower?" I moved away, towards the bedroom.  
  
"Oh no, you don't," Vaughn said, grabbing my arm and hauling me back into the kitchen. "You're going to help."  
  
"Vaughn…" I whined. "I think I've done enough damage for one day."  
  
He shook his head. "Nope. You're not getting out of this. You have to learn sometime."  
  
"Fine," I grumbled, stepping back in front of the stove.  
  
"Good," Vaughn said. He reached out, handing me an egg. "Now, let's start at the beginning."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hehe… told you it was kinda stupid. But hey… We can all do with a little stupidity in our lives :) I hope you guys liked it, anyways. Thanks for all the great reviews… I'm loving them!! 


	21. Chapter 21

Hey guys! I'm glad to see that no one (or at least no one who left a review) thought that the last chapter was stupid. YAY! And, thanks to another reviewer, I realized that I had yet to explain what had happened with Vaughn when he was kidnapped. So here it is…enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 21  
  
I had to admit that my second attempt at scrambled eggs had turned out quite a bit better. We had eaten in comfortable silence, I feeling quite pleased with myself for creating a successful breakfast, and Vaughn acting smug because he had taught me how.  
  
The whole situation had seemed almost normal—like it was something that we did every day. And I wished that it was.  
  
I grinned across the table at Vaughn, grabbing his empty plate and my own and carrying them to the sink.  
  
"You're pretty impressed with yourself, aren't you?" He asked with a smile as he watched me scrub halfheartedly at the dirty dishes.  
  
I grinned sheepishly. It was true. I did feel suddenly like the Martha Stewart of my generation.  
  
I blushed at the thought, knowing full well that not burning eggs in no way made me like Martha Stewart.  
  
"Maybe a little," I said modestly, deciding to keep the Martha Stewart thing to myself.   
  
Vaughn stood up, moving to stand beside me in front of the sink. He pulled the plate I was washing away from me, grabbing the dishrag from my hand.  
  
"I can finish these up," he said. "After all, you did make breakfast."  
  
I found myself remembering that night in LA, when he had fallen asleep on my couch watching the Kings game. We had come a long way since then. I chuckled. "Yeah. All by myself." He glanced at me, his eyes sparkling.  
  
"Right." He paused, placing a newly cleaned dish in the drying rack. "I can't believe that you never learned to cook." He shook his head in disbelief. "You live with someone who owns a restaurant!"  
  
I scowled at him, deciding that it was safer not to respond. I turned on my heels and headed toward the bathroom, ignoring his soft chuckles behind me.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I emerged from the shower about twenty minutes later, my hair smelling pleasantly of lilacs. I toweled myself dry and got dressed, my hair leaving wet marks around the collar of my shirt. I ran the towel over my hair several times, then gave up. It's not like I was going anywhere today. And I knew that Vaughn didn't care.  
  
He had seen me beaten and bloody, and dressed in any number of horrible outfits.  
  
Yet he didn't seem to mind.  
  
My thoughts drifted back to his own bruised body, and I realized that I had yet to find out what had happened during the brief time that he'd been missing. All I knew was that if Sloane was involved in any way, I would kill him.  
  
I left the bathroom in search of Vaughn. I found him kneeling in front of the small television set, fiddling with the antennas perched on top. Through the distortion on the screen, I could see the vague outlines of hockey players.  
  
Hockey.  
  
Why was I not surprised?  
  
I chuckled, and Vaughn turned his head. Seeing that it was me, he flipped the television off, and moved over to the couch.  
  
I lowered myself down beside him, tucking my uninjured leg up underneath me. I looked at him seriously, and he frowned, reaching up to rub a strand of my still damp hair between his fingers.  
  
"What's the matter?" He asked.  
  
"Tell me what happened," I said, my eyes meeting his.  
  
His hand fell away from my hair, and his eyes moved away from mine to an invisible spot on the hotel carpet.  
  
"What do you mean?" He asked, the question not at all convincing.  
  
"You know what I mean, Vaughn," I said, my voice soft as I reached out to run my fingers along the dark bruising by his eye.  
  
He frowned. "It's over, Syd," he said, his voice harsh. "It doesn't matter."  
  
"It matters to me," I said. He returned his gaze to mine, and I was slightly taken aback by the pain I saw there. "You have to tell someone, or it will eat up inside," I said again after a pause. "Believe me, I know."  
  
His eyes softened at my words. He knew the things that I had been through—knew that I would sympathize with him, but not pity him.  
  
He glanced away, pausing for several moments before speaking. "I was cleaning up the dishes while you were in the shower, and I had the water running, so I didn't hear them come in. They must have hit me on the head, because I don't remember anything until I woke up later on. They had me in an interrogation room, but the lights were off. And they beat me—I couldn't see them, but they beat me until I passed out again."  
  
I closed my eyes against the image, reaching out to squeeze Vaughn's hand in mine.  
  
He didn't look up, just continued to speak in an almost monotone voice. "When I woke up again, the light was on. A man was there." I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off, anticipating my question. "I didn't know him..." he trailed off. "And he never asked me anything. He just—he just told me that they were going to kill you. That they were coming back for you." His voice was barely a whisper.  
  
I watched him for a moment, my brow furrowed. They hadn't interrogated him? Why had they taken him, then? To scare him? It didn't make sense.  
  
"I couldn't let them hurt you." Vaughn's words pulled me away from my thoughts. "I knew I had to get out. They came to beat me again. They thought that I had passed out. But I didn't." For the first time, I saw the hint of a smile on his face. "And I beat them up."  
  
I smiled, squeezing his hand, and finally he looked back up at me. "There was no one else in the building," he continued. "I left and found my way back here."  
  
We sat in silence as I analyzed what he had said.  
  
"Vaughn," I said finally. "None of this makes any sense. If they wanted me, why didn't they just take me in the first place? And why didn't they interrogate you?"  
  
Vaughn shook his head. Obviously, he'd been wondering the same thing. We both thought about it for several minutes, no answers coming to mind.  
  
"Thank you for telling me," I said softly.  
  
He nodded. "I do feel better. Guess I'm just not as tough as you." Finally, he smiled.  
  
"No," I said, returning the smile. "You just haven't had quite as much experience with this kind of thing. And you should be grateful for that."  
  
"I am," he replied, without hesitation. "And I'm grateful that I'm here with you."  
  
I blushed, squeezing his hand and leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. "Our flight doesn't leave until tomorrow morning," I said. "What do you want to do for the rest of the day?"  
  
"Well, I—"  
  
Vaughn's words were cut off as the door to the hotel room flew open. Vaughn and I jumped up from the couch, Vaughn pulling a gun from the end table beside the couch as several men dressed completely in black swarmed into the room.  
  
Vaughn raised the gun, aiming it at the closest man. Within seconds, every one of the men in the room had trained their machine guns on Vaughn's head.  
  
"Drop it," one of the men said. They were all wearing black ski masks, and my attempts to identify them were in vain. Vaughn paused, then nodded, slowly bending down to place his gun on the floor.  
  
One of the men stepped forward, reaching down to retrieve Vaughn's gun.  
  
"Sydney," the man said, and I froze, my brow furrowing in concentration. I knew that voice.  
  
The man pulled off his mask, and my eyes widened in shock.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Heehee… another cliffhanger! Hope you guys liked it! I realized from some of the reviews that I've received that I should probably go back over the entire story and proofread it. There are several typos that should be changed… and I hate typos! The next chapter will be along in the next few days, and also be watching for revisions to the previous chapters as I read over them again. As always, read and review! 


	22. Chapter 22

Wow- I can't believe that I've written 22 chapters on this story. When I started out, I had planned to have two chapters, three tops. Funny how things work out. Well, here's the resolution to the cliffhanger… with it's own complications worked in. As always, reviews are appreciated!  
  
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Chapter 22  
  
"What the Hell are you doing here?" I asked, my voice harsh with confusion and anger. I couldn't think of a single reason for my father to come bursting into the safehouse like he had. The other men in the room moved to surround us, their stances casual but intimidating.  
  
"There's no time for that now, Sydney," my father said, his face tense, his voice firm. "We have to get you out of here. They know that you're here."  
  
I remained frozen, my brain refusing to process the information through my shock.  
  
"Who?" I asked finally.  
  
"Sloane's men," he said, sending a cold glance at Vaughn, which confused me even more.  
  
"They couldn't have tracked us" I said, more to myself than to my father. My mind was finally beginning to process what little information I had. "I made sure that we weren't followed." In fact, I had taken extra precautions, instructing the cab driver to spend extra time driving down the side streets and back alleys of Istanbul, so that I could be sure nothing appeared suspicious.   
  
"We don't know," my father replied. "But we intercepted a transmission from an SD-6 communications devise—from Sloane to his operatives. He instructed them to move in on you—today."  
  
I didn't know what to say. It was impossible. Sloane hadn't acted suspicious of me in the last few months. In fact, he had seemed almost proud—proud of my hard work, proud of my devotion to SD-6. Why would he suddenly send a tem to bring me in. And even if he had—if he had been hiding his suspicions, our covers were good. The safehouse was secure. We hadn't made any calls or transmissions since we left the loft apartment on the other side of the city. There was no way that Sloane's men could have found us.  
  
Unless, somewhere along the way, we had missed something.  
  
"Come on," my dad said, grabbing my forearm with his gloved hand and pulling me towards the door.  
  
I resisted, pulling my arm away and raising my eyes to meet his. I studied his face, trying to uncover whatever it was that he wasn't telling me.   
  
Something was missing.   
  
Something else was going on.  
  
"What are you doing here?" I asked him, the suspicion in my voice barely concealed.  
  
"I told you," he said. "I'm here to—"   
  
I cut him off. "Not here," I said, gesturing to the room. "Istanbul. What are you doing in Istanbul?"  
  
He frowned, and I could tell that he was debating how to answer the question. Eventually, he sighed in frustration. "I flew in yesterday. I've been conducting surveillance on your hotel. Making sure that no one suspicious found their way inside."  
  
I studied his face again, and from the tenseness of his jaw—the urgency and self-consciousness in his eyes, I knew that he was telling the truth. He had come to protect me. The thought was strangely comforting.  
  
I nodded, turning back to Vaughn, who had been observing the situation in silence, his brow furrowed in concern.  
  
"I guess we have to cut our stay short," I said to Vaughn, accepting that, in this circumstance at least, my father was right. As I reached out my hand to Vaughn, several of the other men moved to surround him, blocking him from my reach. I jerked my hand back, turning to send my father a confused look. "Dad?" I asked, my voice rising. "What the Hell is going on?"  
  
My dad looked away, as if hoping he wouldn't have to explain why three armed men had just moved in to restrain Vaughn.  
  
"We don't have time right now, Sydney," he said tersely. I continued to stare at him until he spoke again. "We're temporarily separating you and Agent Vaughn."  
  
"Why?" I practically shouted. My eyes shifted from my father to the group of men standing around Vaughn in stony silence. "Why won't you tell me what's going on?"  
  
My dad glanced around the room nervously. "Sydney. We need to—"  
  
I cut him off again. "I'll be damned if I move an inch until you tell me what is going on!"  
  
My father hesitated, before his eyes rose to meet mine. "The CIA has reason to believe that Agent Vaughn has become a security risk."  
  
My heart froze in my chest at the words. It couldn't be. It was impossible.  
  
"What?" I snapped. My dad reached for my arm again, but I jerked away. "Don't touch me!" I shouted, backing away. "This is insane!"  
  
My father glared at me. "We can discuss this later. You're being irrational, and we don't have time for it. We need to get out of here. Now."  
  
"No! Vaughn is not a security risk. He is not a traitor." I turned to Vaughn, hoping to find some reassurance in his eyes. My body went cold, though, when his eyes met mine. The look on his face was anything but reassuring. He wasn't scared. There was no look of surprise or shock in his eyes.  
  
He was quiet. Confused. Thoughtful. As if he was remembering something important. Or putting the last piece of a puzzle into place. It was a look that I recognized, but in this particular situation, it wasn't the look I had expected to see.  
  
And it definitely wasn't making me feel any better.  
  
"Vaughn?" I asked, my voice begging him to say he was innocent…to say anything to reassure me. But what he said did nothing of the sort.  
  
"Syd, maybe you'd better do what they say." He frowned. "I think I might know what's going on."  
  
I stared at him, my eyes wide. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came. I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Two of the men moved next to me, one of them placing a hand lightly but forcefully on my arm. I didn't resist, and began moving backwards toward the door, my eyes never leaving Vaughn.  
  
I didn't know what to do.  
  
Just as I walked through the doorway, my father turned to face me.  
  
"I'll be in touch," he said stiffly, before turning back into the room and shutting the door behind him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Within an hour, I was on a plane to Los Angeles, two disguised guards seated on either side of me.  
  
Frowning in concentration, I tried to piece together the day's events. But I realized that I didn't know anything. I didn't have a single clue as to why my father had shown up so suddenly.  
  
I didn't know who to trust.  
  
I didn't know what to do.  
  
But, as I stared past the guard on my left and out the scratched, foggy airplane window, I realized that there was one thing that I did know with complete certainty.  
  
Vaughn was not a traitor.  
  
That was the one thing that he would never do.  
  
He wouldn't do it to his country.  
  
He wouldn't do it to his father's memory.  
  
And he wouldn't do it to me.  
  
I didn't know what had led the CIA to suspect him of leaking information, but the second my plane landed, I was going to do my damnedest to find out.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Well, guys, I hope you liked it… kind of a plot twist, I know. But it will all work out. Is Vaughn a traitor? Is he leaking information to SD-6? I have a feeling that most of you already know the answer to this. I would tell you right now, but I've got to keep a little suspense in the story. Otherwise, it wouldn't be any fun! Please review!! 


	23. Chapter 23

Well, here's chapter 23. Sorry I didn't update over the weekend. It was kind of busy around here!! Hope you guys like this chapter. I've got the next few pretty well planned out, and I just need to sit down and write them. Enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 23  
  
When I arrived in Los Angeles, I was immediately escorted to yet another safehouse—one that I'd hoped I would never have to use. It was a safehouse built for one purpose, and one purpose only. To isolate a double agent whose cover had been blown.  
  
Whose life was at risk.  
  
Who had nowhere else to go.  
  
It was funny. Since everything had fallen apart with Vaughn in Istanbul, I hadn't given a second thought to my own situation. Sloane knew I was a double. My life was in serious danger.  
  
But, at the same time, I felt a flicker of hope—that this ordeal, these last seven years of my life, Danny's death—might finally be put behind me.  
  
But I couldn't risk hoping. I couldn't let myself start thinking about a life outside of SD-6, outside of the CIA. Not until it was guaranteed.  
  
I couldn't help but feel relieved when I was led into the safehouse, the two guards following me in and locking the door behind me. I always acted strong, and I've always tried to be brave, but I knew that Sloane would be out there looking for me. And until I had formulated a plan, I appreciated any protection I could get. I was scared.  
  
I walked slowly towards the bedroom of the old house, frowning as my thoughts returned to Vaughn.  
  
My father thought Vaughn was a double agent. He hadn't used those words, hadn't come right out and said it like I wished he would, but I knew that he was thinking it.  
  
I sighed. It would be one thing if it had just been my father's suspicions, but the CIA believed it as well.  
  
But it couldn't be.  
  
It couldn't.  
  
Because it was Vaughn. And despite the suspicion that was beginning to tug at the back of my mind, I had to trust him.   
  
I had to.   
  
I needed to.  
  
If he betrayed me, I wouldn't be able to go on. I couldn't handle it if another person in my life lied to me.  
  
With new determination, I pushed away any suspicions, any doubts that had been forming about Vaughn.  
  
I loved him.  
  
I had faith in him.  
  
Grabbing the phone, I dialed my father's number, hoping to at least get all the facts on the situation. The phone rang several times before he picked up.  
  
"Dad?" I asked.  
  
"Sydney." He said. I'm glad you called. I need to explain what happened."  
  
"You're damn right you do," I snapped, my anger resurfacing against my will. I took a few deep breaths, calming myself down a little before speaking again. "I'm sorry." I said finally. "But please, just tell me the truth about what's going on."  
  
"As you know, we intercepted a transmission from SD-6 to…kill you." My father hesitated at these last words, clearing his throat before continuing. "I didn't tell you that we intercepted an additional transmission—an electronic tracking signal coming from the safehouse. At first, we thought a trace had been planted at the original safehouse. But when the signal followed you across Istanbul, we got suspicious, and sent in a team."  
  
"But that could have been planted by anyone," I interjected. "There's no way to know how long Sloane has known I'm a double. He could have planted it on me at work. Why suspect Vaughn?" I asked.  
  
"Because the signal was first picked up when Vaughn returned to the safehouse after his kidnapping."  
  
I hesitated at this information.  
  
"Sydney," my father continued, his own voice hesitant. "We examined Vaughn's injuries after you left. The tracking device was implanted underneath the skin of his left forearm. It was disguised as a cut—nothing that would have been noticed without our tracking equipment."  
  
I remained silent, shocked at the information. Vaughn had been carrying a tracking device. They knew he had been with me. They were using him to find me. And it made me mad.  
  
"That doesn't mean that Vaughn is a double," I replied defiantly. "He was kidnapped. He told me he was beaten—that he was unconscious at least twice. That device could have been planted without his knowledge." I tried unsuccessfully to hold back my mounting anger. "How can you automatically assume that he's a traitor?"  
  
"I'm not assuming anything. I don't believe that Agent Vaughn is a traitor."  
  
"You don't?" I asked, my father's statement taking me off guard.  
  
"No. But the same circumstances remain. He is a security risk, whether he planned to be or not. And that situation needs to be handled."  
  
I remained silent, realizing that he was right.  
  
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more in Istanbul," he continued. "We needed to get you off the premises, and I couldn't risk Vaughn overhearing anything. At this point, his best and quickest chance at proving his innocence is a lie detector test. And I want him to answer with complete honesty. His memory of what happened can't be tainted by your version of events, or mine."  
  
I couldn't believe it. All this time I had been blaming my father for what had happened, when he was the one trying to help Vaughn.  
  
"Dad…" I said, my voice almost a whisper. "Thank you."  
  
"I'm not doing this for you," he replied. "I'm doing it for Agent Vaughn."  
  
Which meant more than anything he could ever have done for me.  
  
"Still," I replied. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied uncomfortably.  
  
"When does he take the lie detector test?" I asked, the worry returning to the pit of my stomach.  
  
"He just got out of surgery, so—"  
  
"What?" I asked. "Surgery?"  
  
"To remove the tracking device," my father responded. "They used local anesthesia, but the doctors want to give him a few hours of recovery time, so than nothing influences the test. He should take it within the next four hours."  
  
"Could you call me with the results?" I asked.  
  
"Of course," he said. "As soon as I have them."   
  
"Thanks. And Dad?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Could you tell him that I—that I'm thinking of him?"  
  
There was silence at the other end of the line.  
  
"You know I can't do that," he finally responded.  
  
"Please." I said simply. He paused.  
  
"I'll try," he said, and the line went dead.  
  
I hung up slowly, still processing everything I had been told.  
  
It made sense for Sloane to use someone close to me—to use someone that meant everything to me. Vaughn was the perfect choice. I wouldn't suspect a thing, and when the CIA found out, they would just accuse him of being a traitor. It was a win-win situation for SD-6.  
  
Except Sloane hadn't planned on my father finding out. He hadn't expected that he would believe Vaughn. Neither had I.  
  
And I was more grateful than I could ever say.  
  
But questions remained. How had Sloane found out about me? How had he discovered that Vaughn was my handler? Did he know that my father was a double as well?  
  
And how, now that we had been found out, would it be possible to bring an end to SD-6?  
  
The questions were exhausting, and I knew that there was no way I could answer them alone.  
  
I lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above me.  
  
I wished that Vaughn were here with me.  
  
I wished that I could give him a huge, tight hug.  
  
He had told me that he couldn't sleep when I was away on missions, and for the first time I understood what he meant.  
  
Because I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink until he was with me again.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Well, everyone needs to send Vaughn some good test-taking vibes. Those darned lie detector tests. Anyways, hope you guys liked the chapter. Please read and review. Thanks for ALL the reviews you sent on the last chapter… it was by far the most reviewed of all 22 chapters so far!! YAY!! 


	24. Chapter 26

Hey, hey, hey! Here's chapter 26. Hope you all like it. A little more Syd/Vaughn bonding this chapter… it's been awhile! I feel the need to get overly sappy in the upcoming chapters (due to the sad, sad state of Syd/Vaughn on the actual show). Sigh. I'm very bummed out. Anyways, more chapters to come. I can't guarantee a specific date when the next chapter will be up (I'm going on vacation tomorrow—a well deserved vacation, I might add) so it could be awhile. Anyways. Hope you enjoy! Please review, as always!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Chapter 26  
  
I jerked awake, startled into reality by some dream that was already fading from memory. I opened my eyes, squinting at the light streaming in through a crack in the curtains.  
  
It was light outside.  
  
The thought stuck in my mind for a moment, before I realized what that meant. I must have fallen asleep by seven the night before. I couldn't believe it. I turned my neck, groaning at the stiffness in my back, and squinted at the digital clock on the bedside table.   
  
"Damnit," I muttered, my mind still cloudy from sleep. It was already past ten. I had slept for over fifteen hours.  
  
I cursed again under my breath, berating myself for oversleeping, and wondering how I was able to fall asleep in the first place. Last I could remember, I had been staring at the ceiling fan above me, praying for Vaughn to arrive, and for sleep to overtake me.  
  
And overtake me it had. I had somehow managed to sleep not only through the night, but probably through Vaughn's arrival, as well. Closing my eyes again, I rolled over onto my side, reluctant to get up.   
  
My mind slowly began to clear, and I found myself wondering why Vaughn wasn't here—or at least why he hadn't come to wake me up. According to what my father had said the night before, Vaughn should have been here several hours ago.  
  
Groaning again, I realized that I needed to get up—needed to find out what was going on.  
  
I opened my eyes, again squinting at the harsh light pouring in through the crack in the curtains. Slowly, my eyes focused.  
  
"Morning, Sunshine."  
  
I jumped at the voice, my eyes darting across the room to the source of the sound. They came to rest on none other than Michael Vaughn.  
  
"Vaughn?" I asked, pushing myself up in bed.  
  
"Hey," he said, grinning. His voice was ragged, and I could tell in a glance that he was exhausted. His suit was rumpled, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and he had loosened his tie.  
  
"You look tired," I said.  
  
He smiled. "And you look beautiful," he replied, rising from the chair and moving to sit beside me on the bed. I laughed self-consciously, running a hand through my hair in an attempt to straighten it.  
  
"When did you get here?" I asked.  
  
"A couple hours ago," he said, pulling my hand away from my hair and intertwining his fingers with my own.  
  
"Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked, yawning as I leaned back on the headboard of the bed.  
  
"You need the rest," he said softly. "Plus, I wasn't very good company."  
  
I nodded. "Tough few days?"  
  
Vaughn chuckled. "You have no idea." He sighed.  
  
"But everything's okay now?"  
  
He nodded. "I'm free as a bird. Except I'm not allowed to leave the safehouse."  
  
I chuckled. "Me either."  
  
He shifted on the bed, moving to rest his head on a pillow, letting out a long groan as he did.  
  
"You sure you're okay?" I asked, leaning my head on the palm of my hand as I watched him.  
  
"Mmhmm. Just have a headache. Sodium pentathol will do that." He chuckled dryly.  
  
"What?" I asked, frowning. "Sodium pentathol?"  
  
"Yeah." He gestured to his arm, a small band-aid covering the spot where they had injected the drug. "Didn't Jack tell you?"  
  
"No," I said sharply, anger building in my chest. "He conveniently left that out when he called me."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Syd. It's part of the job—"  
  
"No, it isn't! This whole thing was totally out of line. You've been working for them for years, yet they thought it was necessary to pump you full of drugs to get a straight answer from you. They had no right to—"  
  
Vaughn cut me off, pressing his index finger to my lips. "They had every right, Syd. It's not popular—but it's procedure. They use it on everyone in my situation. You know that," he said gently. "You're just upset that they did it to me."  
  
"No…" I said, sharply. "I'm upset because they didn't tell me. I'm upset that—"  
  
"It's fine," Syd." Vaughn said, his eyes meeting mine. "I had nothing to hide. They weren't going to get any information out of me that wasn't there to begin with. I agreed to it willingly."  
  
I hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly. "I know… I know. I never had any doubt about your loyalties." I looked at him, making sure he knew that my statement was true. "But I know what drugs like that can do to you. You must feel terrible."  
  
"Yeah," he admitted, letting his head fall back to rest against the pillow again. "Horrible. But at least you're here."  
  
I smiled, squeezing his hand in mine. "I'm glad you're back. I finally understood what you meant about not being able to sleep."  
  
Vaughn laughed. "It didn't seem to me like you were having any trouble at all. You were dead to the world when I got here."   
  
I smiled sheepishly. "Well sure. That was after I knew you were okay. But before that—on the plane back from Istanbul—well, sleeping just wasn't an option," I said.  
  
"Sorry about that," he said. "I wish I could have reassured you before you left, but I had figured out, at least partially, what I was being accused of. And I figured that my chances were better if I kept my mouth shut."  
  
"It's okay. I understand."   
  
He smiled, reaching up to snake an arm around my neck. He tugged, and I moved to lie down beside him. He brushed his lips against mine, and then pulled away, our faces only inches apart.   
  
"You never believed that I was a traitor?" He asked, his voice serious. "Not even for a second?"  
  
I shook my head. "Not even for a second. I refused to believe it."  
  
"Good." He said.   
  
"My father didn't believe it either," I said, smiling.   
  
"Really?" Vaughn said, his eyebrows rising in surprise.  
  
"Yeah—in fact, he was probably half the reason you got released as soon as you did."  
  
"Wow," Vaughn said, obviously shocked. "I thought your dad hated me."  
  
I laughed. "Oh, he does. But I think he has some sympathy for those who are accused of being disloyal to their countries. He's had some experience of his own in that arena."  
  
Vaughn nodded, lost in thought. "True…" He turned back to me after a few moments of silence. "So what's the plan now?"  
  
I paused, looking into his serious green eyes.  
  
"We're taking down SD-6." I stated simply.  
  
Vaughn nodded again, probably realizing that now was not the time to ask how we would accomplish such a huge task—something we had been working towards for years. The question was impossible to answer, and would only cause us to worry even more about our current situation.  
  
"When?" He asked.  
  
"Soon."  
  
We were silent for several minutes, studying each other's faces.  
  
"Vaughn?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm scared." I said, my voice barely a whisper. I realized that it was one of the very few times I had told anyone I was scared about anything.   
  
He moved slightly, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer.  
  
"Don't be… there are more than twenty security guards outside. They have this place surrounded—"  
  
"No," I said softly. "Not about that…"  
  
"What? About Sloane? About your friends? Jack told me he had assigned guards around Will's apartment and Francie's house…"  
  
"No—about us," I said.  
  
"What?" He asked, frowning. "Why?"  
  
I looked away. "When SD-6 is gone, where will that leave us? We've only know each other under a certain set of circumstances—extreme circumstances. We can't be seen together. It's dangerous. It's exciting. What happens when all that is gone? What if—what if it isn't the same?" I focused my eyes on our intertwined fingers, unable to meet his eyes.   
  
Vaughn chuckled. "It won't be the same. Not even close." I choked back a sob, refusing to let myself cry. Vaughn reached down, pulling my chin up so that my eyes met his. "It will be better, Sydney. So much better."  
  
"How do you know?" I asked. "How can you be so sure?"  
  
"Because, Syd. It's us. Because I love you."  
  
I hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Okay," I said, snuggling up against him. "I love you too, by the way."  
  
"I know." He smiled, bending slightly to place a lingering kiss on my lips. "Go to sleep."  
  
"I'm not tired," I responded, amused. "I just slept for fifteen hours."  
  
"Well, I am tired. I, unlike you, have been kept awake by hours of interrogation, and debriefing with Kendall and Devlin which was, arguably, more unpleasant than any interrogation could ever be."  
  
I chuckled. "Then you go to sleep." I hugged him. "I'll keep you company."  
  
"Thanks," he said, his eyes already drifting shut."  
  
"Just think," I said. "Someday, we might be able to live the rest of our lives like this."  
  
Vaughn nodded, and for a moment I wondered if he was still awake. "Someday soon, Syd. Someday soon."  
  
* * * * *  
  
There you go! Hope you liked it. You all have a great day!! 


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